


I'll Be Home for Christmas---Hopefully

by bookscape



Category: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: Christmas, Espionage, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 02:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscape/pseuds/bookscape
Summary: Lee is doing reconnaissance in the People's Republic and is caught after he helps a little girl and her injured grandfather during a storm. Will Lee spend the rest of his life at hard labor?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lee Crane is on a mission to check out the rumor of a new type of sub in the People's Republic and is captured after he stops to help an injured old man and his granddaughter.  
Follows Loloa Fononga (The Long Journey)  
Slight edits have been made to this version, partially to clean up some slight grammatical mistakes and in chapter 15 to most closely tie this story to the one that follows, Bear River Rendezvous. They were written in different years but I chose to set them a week apart.

_ **by Sue Kite** _

**This was finished Christmas Eve, 2007, and posted on a Voyage list on Christmas Day. **

**This is a story of hope and Christmas miracles, ones that come from honor and integrity of spirit. I hope you like it. I sure enjoyed writing it. **  
  
---  
  
**December 6** **th**

**Seven-year-old Neera hugged her knees close to her chest and suppressed a sob. She sat on the front steps of the small but cozy hide-away cabin rocking back and forth in her agitation. It was cold enough to see her breath, but she didn’t pay attention to that. Snow heaped just below her feet, but it wasn’t the fun it was when it first fell. Now, it all was so horrible. She wished Papa and Mama were here. Even Lalin, her teacher, or 'Uncle' Kroshna. She looked up at the sky. The clouds seemed to almost touch the roof of the cabin and it felt like there would be more snow coming down.**

**She shivered violently, but didn’t go in. There was only she and Grandper. And Grandper was so sick. There was nothing she could do for him. As the moaning inside the cabin became louder, she rocked harder. "Please, God, Papa does not believe in you, but I do. Grandmere always said there were angels watching over us. Please, send an angel, God, please. Please send one for Grandper. He is so sick and I don’t know what to do," she moaned between sobs. The sound inside the cabin softened and then rose again, almost to a cry of pain. Neerah felt the tears wetting her knees. "Please, Maryjesusjosefgodthefather, don’t let him die," she intoned over and over again, rocking in time with the cadence of her half remembered litany.**

**The cold wind sharpened, making the wind chimes above her clatter in a sound that was not soothing. It was not supposed to happen, that terrible storm. This near the ocean, it wasn’t supposed to get this cold, or this snowy. Grandper told her so. Grandper was always right. Except this time he wasn’t. So when the storm came and the lights went out, the phone went out and the heater stopped working. It was so scary. It will be fine, boomed Grandper even after everything quit working. Uncle Wu-jin said it would be fine. He said that as he left in the big truck they had come up in. As uncle left, Grandper patted her on the head and said it would be fine.**

**And it was fine, sitting in front of the fire, Grandper telling stories of when he was a little boy, both of them drinking the hot cinnamon tea. It was fun until Grandper tried to cut some of the big logs and cut himself instead. Now, Grandper was so sick, Uncle Wu-jin had not come back. There was no heat, no way to call anyone. The wind blew the little wind chime into her lap. With a sharp cry of fear, Neera jumped up and ran inside the cabin slamming the door shut. It was a little warmer inside, but not much. She had put the wood in the fireplace that she could carry. But that was all gone. The rest of the logs were too big for her to pick up, much less put into the fireplace. It was that wood that had hurt Grandper. He had been trying to cut it with the ax, break it into smaller pieces. Now the fire was dead. She shivered again, even though it was a little warmer inside.**

**She walked over to her grandfather and reached out to touch his cheek. He continued to moan, not even aware of her presence. His whiskers were rough and prickly, but she didn’t care. All Neera wanted was for him to wake up, get better, stop moaning. Not die. She pulled her hand back and sniffed. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she could only continue to stare at her grandfather. Looking around at the small transmitter on the table, Neera wished for the millionth time that she could use it to call Papa. But she couldn’t. Uncle Wu-jin had left to get help and had left the transmitter in her care so he could find her and Grandper again. But Uncle Wu-jin hadn’t come back. No one had come. It had been so long and no one had come. Neera gazed at the swollen leg with blood-stained bandages and sobbed. What was she going to do?**

**She heard clumping on the porch and sucked in her breath. "Uncle Wu-jin?" she asked, her voice tremulous. The doorknob rattled even as the wind shook the frosted glass in the windowpanes. The clumping moved away from the door and Neera felt new fear. Uncle would have just come in, wouldn’t he? She saw shadows on the window. Someone was looking through. After a moment the person—or was it an animal, moved away. The doorknob turned and the door opened. A figure clothed in almost white clothes stood briefly in the doorway and then came through, quickly shutting the door behind him. He shook the snow from his body and then looked around the shadowed room. Neera hadn’t realized that it had begun snowing again.**

**"You are not Uncle Wu-jin," Neera said in a small voice. Then she remembered her plea. An angel? Could this be an angel? The figure stopped and stared at her and Grandper. "Are you an andjen—an angel?"**

**The figure’s face was covered with goggles and something that looked like Uncle’s ski mask, but still she could feel his eyes light on her again. After a couple of heartbeats, he reached back for the doorknob.**

**"Please, don’t go away. Grandper will die without help. I asked God to help us. Please…."**

**The angel paused, murmured something she couldn’t understand and then pulled off the goggles, the ski mask and the hood of his coat. He was dark-haired like Uncle, but taller and much more slender. He had dark eyes like her Grandper but a little different. The angel didn’t say anything, but jerked his gloves off, stuffing them inside the pocket of his coat, and approached the bed where Grandper lay. He knelt beside her and Grandper. She wondered where his wings were, but didn’t ask. Neera could only be grateful that he had come. How else could anyone come now, with all the cold and snow?**

**"What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soft.**

**She understood the words, even though they didn’t sound quite right. It was like he didn’t know them all that good. "There was the storm. Everything quit working. Uncle Wujin went for help. Grandper tried to cut wood and hit his leg with the ax. I couldn’t help him much and now he can’t talk to me and tell me what to do. I could only ask God and …."**

**"I understand," the angel said, cutting her off. He began to gently pull off Grandper’s bandages, then glanced at her. "I need more . . . more cloth like this. I need water."**

**She nodded and went into the bedroom where the little closet was that had all the tablecloths, sheets and other things like that. She dragged out the last tablecloth and rushed back to the man, who had pulled off his coat. He had on a regular shirt underneath, like what the farmers wore. Neera was astonished that an angel would wear the same thing farmer workers or gardeners wore.**

**"Do you have…." he began. Then he made a motion with his fingers and she understood at once.**

**"Scissors?" He nodded. "Yes!" she replied and ran into Grandper’s bedroom where he had a desk in one corner. On top were the scissors she had used with her grandfather’s instructions when he was still awake. She knew what the angel wanted her to do. She ran back with the tablecloth and began cutting it in strips, just as she had done before Grandper became so sick.**

**"Good!" the angel said with a smile. He turned back to Grandper, who moaned at the andjen’s every touch. When the last bandage was gently pulled away, Neera almost gagged. Blood mingled with something that smelled horrible. "Water?" he asked, as he tossed the old bandages in a nearby waste can.**

**She pointed to the sink and he frowned. "I am sorry, Andjen," she said with a slight sniffle. "I tried to help Grandper."**

**He studied her again, seemed to decide something and then shook his head. "No. You did good." The andjen studied the room again and then turned to her. "Watch your Grandper. I will . . . make a fire. Get water."**

**She nodded, glancing at the horrible wound before turning quickly away again. Neera sat closer to Grandper’s head. With quick efficiency the andjen found paper and then he looked for wood. She could have told him that there wasn’t any; nothing but the logs that sat by the door where Grandper’s blood had pooled and then dried. But he saw it himself and saw the bloody ax. With no hesitation, he grabbed the ax and laid one log on top of another. He took a moment and studied the logs and then with a great swing of the ax he split the log. He laid the halves, one at a time on the larger log and split them, too. Andjen did that several times and then carried the split logs to the fireplace. Neera watched his every move. He seemed to do everything quickly, almost frantically. "Andjen?" she called out softly. He didn’t seem to hear her, but kept studying the room. Finally he moved to a wooden chair in the kitchen that was part of the big room that included the living room. It had woven seat and back. Grandper had told her it came from America and was very old.**

**Before she could say anything, he had picked it up and then slammed it against the floor. "Andjen!"**

**He stood stone still with pieces of the chair in his hand, staring at her. "What . . . what are you calling me?" he asked in his halting words.**

**Neera turned to her grandfather and seeing he hadn’t moved, got up and moved toward him. "Andjen," she said softly. There was dust in the hearth and she drew a picture of what her grandmother had described as an angel. He looked at the drawing, then at her, his eyes wide. "Do andjen have names?" she asked.**

**Finally he mouth quirked into a bit of a smile and then he shook his head. "That name is . . . good." He looked down at the broken pieces of chair and added, "I needed some small wood to help start a fire."**

**"Oh," Neera said in a small voice. "It was Grandmer’s chair." Then her voice lowered even more as though someone might be listening. "It was from America."**

**He smiled reassuringly and nodded. "I know." Then he took all the pieces to the fireplace and built the fire. Neera was amazed at how quickly he did it. The only thing he had to ask her for was matches, which she got for him without hesitation. Soon the fire’s warmth began to fill the room and the sound of crackling wood comforted her.**

**Andjen found a large pot and carried it to the door. "I will be back," he told her and opened the door.**

**Neera wasn’t sure what he was doing but she stayed by Grandper’s side. It was a very short time and he was back with a pot filled with snow. Andjen moved the crackling logs around and placed the pot as far into the fire as he could.**

**Then he turned back to her. "What is your name, child?"**

**"Neera."**

**Again he studied her. It was only for a brief moment and she wondered at the strange look in his eyes, but then he nodded. "Neera, I need . . . medicine for your Grandper. Things to clean…." he pointed to grandfather’s leg.**

**She nodded and began to walk down the short hallway.**

**"No, Neera. Tell me where. You stay with Grandper."**

**"Down there. The bathroom is where everything is." She pointed.**

**He nodded and headed down the darkened hallway. Neera heard the noise of Andjen digging through the cabinets. When he came back, he was carrying an armful of bottles and packets and small boxes.**

**With a reassuring smile, he laid all the things down in front of the fireplace and began looking through everything. He put some things to one side and then picked up the smaller pile and brought it over to Grandper’s side. Andjen looked at Grandper on the couch and frowned again. He got up again and went into the bedroom, then he came back. "Where is your bed?" he asked, surprising her.**

**Neera pointed to a room at the end of the dark hall. He nodded and went down the hallway. In a moment Andjen was coming back, pulling her narrow bed. He had it turned almost sideways, but it still didn’t take long for him to get it in the main room. When it was sitting on all four legs near the fire, and the sheets and blankets were back on the mattress, he came back over to Grandper. Carefully, he picked Grandper up and carried him to Neera’s bed. Blood began to ooze out of the wound and the girl gave a small cry. When Grandper was on her bed, Andjen motioned for her to bring the bandages over to him and lay them on the bed next to Grandper’s head. The angel picked up several of the bandages and carried them to the pot on the fire. With great care, he dipped them in the pot and then wrung the excess water from them. Bringing the bandages back to the bed, he began to gently clean the injured leg.**

**Grandper’s moan turned into a shriek and he jerked his leg back.**

**"Neera, talk to your grandfather. Sing to him. Tell him it will be all right."**

**Neera did as she was told and also rubbed his bristly cheek. Andjen began again and again Grandper cried out and tried to pull away. Andjen finally sat on him and continued cleaning the horrible mess of Grandper’s leg. "Are there more sheets or things to use to wash his leg with?" he asked in the middle of his cleaning.**

**"I will go get something," she told him and ran to the closet.**

**Several times the angel had to get up and get fresh cloths to continue the cleaning. Each time he would dip the fresh cloth into the hot water and then wring it out a little before continuing to wash the wound. It looked better when he had finished, but still looked red and ugly. Next Andjen poured something from a bottle that foamed and bubbled. Again Grandper screamed. Andjen wiped away the foam after it had finished bubbling, put something else on the wound that must not have hurt as bad. Grandper didn’t do more than moan. Andjen finally got off her grandfather and sighed. Then he placed a folded bandage on Grandper’s leg, which was bleeding only slightly now and had none of the horrible pus and stuff. He began wrapping the other bandages round and round the wound. Finally he tied a strip around the bandages to hold them and sat back on the edge of the bed.**

**"I think that will do for now," Andjen said.**

**Neera gazed at her grandfather, looking hot and sweaty, as though he had been outside in the summer running up and down the path from the lake. Then she looked at the angel. Maybe he wasn’t an angel; maybe he was only a man. But God had sent him. In all this huge forest where no one else lived, He had sent someone to help her. So maybe that made Andjen a real angel. When Grandper was well, she could ask him…. Then a horrid thought struck her. "Will he get well?" she asked.**

**He nodded. "I think so. He needs a doctor. Someone better than me."**

**"How do we get a doctor?" she asked.**

**Andjen nodded toward the transmitter. "When the storm is finished, people will come here." He looked sad. "It might take two, maybe three days." Now he looked at the door, as though he wanted to go out—as though he wanted to leave. Looking back at Grandper and then at her, Andjen sighed.**

**"But you will take care of Grandper, won’t you? Please?"**

**He looked deeply into her eyes and then nodded. "I will stay and help you take care of Grandper."**

**She had been right. He had been thinking of leaving. Neeva laid her hand on his. It was strong, like Grandper’s had been before the accident. "Thank you. I love Grandper. I thought he was going to die."**

**"He is not well yet. He still has a fever. But I will do what I can for him."**

**"Thank you."**

**He smiled and looked at the fireplace where the pot of water was now steaming. "I would say that now we should fix something your grandfather could drink and eat." Looking down at the girl, he added, "For you, too. And while we’re having dinner, you can tell me what you were singing to your Grandper. It was very pretty."**

**She looked astonished. Maybe he didn’t believe in God either. "It was a Christmas song that Grandmer used to sing to me. I had forgotten it until today."**

**"Christmas," he said, looking startled. "When? I mean, how many days?" He sighed. "I have lost track."**

**Neera did some quick mental math. "I think less than three weeks if it is December 6th."**

**Andjen raised an eyebrow, then his mouth quirked into a smile. "I don’t know what day it is either." He chuckled. "So we say it is December 6th."**

**"How can we say it is that day? Maybe it’s not," Neera said, puzzled.**

**"You did say I was an angel, didn’t you?" he asked.**

**She nodded, trying to figure out if he was teasing or not. She couldn’t tell.**

**"Then it is December 6th. We do need to fix some food," Andjen said, his smile fading. "Your Grandper has to have something to drink."**


	2. Chapter 2

**Neera and Andjen rummaged through the pantry looking at all the cans and boxes. Neera didn’t want any vegetables, she picked out a tin of crackers and a can of meat. There was also a jar of cheese spread. Andjen picked out cans of beans and carrots.**

**"I think I can make something you will like with the meat and beans. We need some kind of vegetable," he said.**

**"Why?" Neera asked petulantly. "I don’t like carrots."**

**"Then pick out another vegetable you do like."**

**"Do I have to?"**

**"Yes," Andjen said softly, as he pulled out a can with a picture of a tomato on the front.**

**"Doesn’t that count?" she asked, pointing to the can.**

**Andjen laughed softly. "Perhaps this time." He pulled out a small can of bullion cubes.**

**"Are those for Grandper?"**

**Andjen nodded. "He needs something to build up his strength. Later we will make something all three of us like."**

**It seemed to Neera that Andjen was finding words much easier now. Still, he seemed at times to still search for the right word. Later she would ask him. Later, she would ask him many things.**

**Still rummaging, Andjen pulled out pots, one large and one small, spoons, one of the little can openers that she had been unable to figure out. He dug in another cabinet and found the cans of spices. After he had opened some of the cans and poured the food into the large pot, he sprinkled in some spices and stirred it all together. He stepped back a bit, and looked at the stove. Then he opened the doors, looked into the stove and sighed.**

**Neera gazed into the stove, too. "What’s wrong?"**

**"Wood stove. Never used a large one like this."**

**"Grandper put the wood in there with some paper and then lit it with matches," she informed him, feeling a little more important knowing something that her angel didn’t know. "He made sure that thing was open so that the smoke didn’t come into the room," she added, pointing to a handle on the flue pipe.**

**Andjen made sure the pipe to the wall was open and then built a fire in the place she had pointed out. He murmured something she couldn’t understand and then lit it. It started quickly and they could feel the heat emanating from the top. It wasn’t long before the large pot began bubbling. "I’m going to get some more snow to melt."**

**"I can do that, Andjen," she said authoritatively.**

**"It’s snowing pretty hard," he reminded her. "Are you sure?"**

**She stuck her chin out in indignation and put her hands on her hips. "Before he got hurt, I helped Grandper a lot."**

**With a smile, Andjen handed her the pot. "I am sure you did. Thanks." He turned back to check on Grandper as Neera headed out the door. The blast of cold air almost took her breath away, but she didn’t go back to get her coat. It wouldn’t take but a minute to get the pot filled and she wasn’t going to let him think she couldn’t do this simple job. Still, Neera didn’t go too far from the porch to get some of the fresher snow that had fallen in the past day. The pan wasn’t too big, so she just used it to scoop up a big bunch. She smooshed that down and added some more, remembering that when it melted it didn’t make that much water. Then she headed in the door.**

**Andjen was next to Grandper, who was moaning in pain. Alarmed Neera put the pot down and dashed across the room to her grandfather. Before she could say anything, Andjen began, "He has a fever. Have you ever had a fever?"**

**"Yes. Last summer."**

**"What did your parents…." There he hesitated. "You are only up here with your Grandper for a visit?"**

**She looked at him. Obviously if he was an angel, God had not told him much. "This is Grandper’s vacation cabin. He comes here when he gets tired of the capital." She peered at him but his face didn’t tell her anything. "I live with my mama and papa in the capital most of the time."**

**"Oh," was all he said to that comment. "Then what did they give you for your fever."**

**Again, Neera just looked at him, then she went over to where Andjen had left all the medicines and peered at all of the bottles. She picked the one that looked like what Mama had carried her medicine in and handed it to him. "It has Grandper’s name on it," she said, pointing to the name on the label. "So I know he can take it. I don’t know what else it says. I haven’t learned to read much yet." He took it and peered carefully at where she had pointed. "You can’t read? Papa said everyone should read." She was just learning, but from the angel’s face, she thought that was something else she knew that he didn’t. "Can’t you read it? Can’t you tell if it’s right?"**

**"No." He opened the bottle and shook out a couple of the pills. "At least not all of it. But these look like what I have taken a time or two for fever. It will help his pain, too."**

**"I’ll get a glass of water so you can give them to Grandper," Neera said, remembering how embarrassed she had made one of the servants when they had admitted they couldn’t read.**

**"Thank you, Neera. And bring a spoon, too. I might have to . . . break these up for your grandfather to drink easier."**

**"Eeyew, they are nasty when they are all broken up," she said over her shoulder as she climbed up on the stool to get the glass. She heard him chuckle softly. Neera got the glass, poured some water from a pitcher of water and carried it and a spoon back to Andjen. She held it while he tried to coax Grandper awake. The old man stirred, moaned and opened his eyes slightly, blinking at the flickering light of the nearby fire.**

**"Grandper," Andjen said softly. "I have some medicine that will help you feel better. You must take it."**

**"Neera," the old man whispered.**

**"Here, Grandper. Andjen and I are taking care of you. You must take the medicine," she said, keeping the fearful quiver out of her voice. "Please."**

**He blinked at Andjen, as though trying to focus on him. "Andjen?"**

**The angel, if that was what he really was, shrugged. "I will not . . .um, argue with what brought me here, sir. But we cannot get you to a doctor for a while, so you must take this," he said. "It will help."**

**Grandper allowed Andjen to give him the tablets and then drank when Neera held the glass to his lips. But the entire time he gazed at the man helping him, blinking hard to clear his watery eyes. "Take care of my grandchild. Please do not leave her." Grandper said and then moaned, but still his eyes were locked onto those of the angel’s. "Please."**

**Andjen nodded. "I will take care of her—and you."**

**Grandper sighed softly, blinked some more and then turned his attention to Neera for a brief moment. Then his eyes rested back on Andjen’s face. "Andjen, is it?" He smiled wanly. "My dear wife insisted that angels took all forms. Perhaps . . . she was . . . right."**

**The last word was barely heard and then Grandper was asleep again.**

**"He will sleep for a while. Let’s check the supper," Andjen said quietly. "Every time he wakes up, though, you will need to try to get him to drink something. Water, tea, whatever. And I will get him some broth warmed up."**

**Neera nodded and put the glass of water on the fireplace hearth. She followed Andjen to the stove and climbed back up on the stool to watch him. The smell coming from the large pot was strange to her but also quite interesting—good. "What is that?"**

**"Chili," he responded absently. "One of the few things I think I am good at cooking." She didn’t say anything. "I want to ask. Please do not think I am . . . uh, well. Why did your grandfather decide to come up into this area alone with you and at this time of year?"**

**Neera instantly wondered why Andjen was up here, too, if he wasn’t an angel, but didn’t ask. Her papa had told her once when she had said things she shouldn’t that you learn more by listening rather than talking. She would wait, even though there were many things she wanted to ask this ‘angel.’ "Grandmere made Grandper promise to celebrate Christmas after she died. She made Papa promise to let Grandper do it, too." Neera almost smiled at the remembrance. Papa had been angry, even while he was very, very sad at Grandmere’s death. But as far back as she could remember, Papa had never broken a promise to her, so here she was. Here she was….**

**"Your papa doesn’t believe in Christmas?" Andjen asked quietly as he stirred the pot.**

**"No, he doesn’t believe in God, either," she said matter-of-factly.**

**"But you do."**

**It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. "He sent you."**

**Andjen’s eyebrows went up a notch. He checked the smaller pot of heating water and put in a couple of the bullion cubes to melt for Grandper’s soup. He didn’t say anything at all, but kept his attention on the two pots.**

**"Do you?" Neera asked.**

**"Which? God or Christmas?" he asked, a slight smile on his face.**

**Neera wondered for a moment if he was teasing her and asked.**

**"Not really, Neera. But yes, I do. Both." He looked as though he was going to say more, but he didn’t.**

**"Until Grandper is better, can you tell me about Christmas?"**

**He stirred the chili a little more before answering. Finally, he said, "I guess so. What do you want me to tell you? You know different people . . . celebrate Christmas in different ways."**

**"What did you do when you were my age?"**

**Andjen seemed lost in thought for a few minutes.**

**"Or are angels ever boys or girls," she asked, still wondering just what Andjen really was. Somehow, she didn’t think he was truly an angel, and yet….**

**"Why wouldn’t they be?" Andjen asked. He stirred the pot, took a taste with a small spoon and dug in the spices again. Then he handed Neera another spoon. "Here, before I put anything else in, you try it."**

**She did. It had a spicy heat that warmed her from the inside out. "Oooh, that’s good," and handed the spoon back.**

**Andjen put the spices away and then moved the pot a little bit away from the direct heat of the fire and checked the broth. It was steaming but not boiling.**

**He stirred it and then beckoned to Neera. "Come over here to the window."**

**She followed him and looked out across the small bare space to the dark woods. Neera wasn’t sure what Andjen wanted her to see and looked back up at him.**

**"Before it gets too dark, see if you can pick out a nicely shaped little tree you would like for a Christmas tree," he told her.**

**"A Christmas tree?" she queried.**

**He nodded. "My father used to take us out into the woods where we’d pick out the tree we wanted. We can’t do that here. Someone has to watch your Grandper—you. But if you see one that you like, I don’t think he’d mind me cutting it and bringing it inside."**

**Neera saw her smiling reflection in the window as she gazed into the shadowy half-light of the cloud-laden afternoon. There—there was a little tree. She pointed. "That one."**

**"Good choice," he replied, looking over her shoulder. He pulled on his coat and grabbed the ax.**

**"Be careful, please," she said, her voice tight with worry. He hadn’t had a problem with the firewood, but still, she saw her Grandper’s accident play over again in her mind.**

**"I will, Neera." He opened the door, allowing a quick blast of air into the room and then closed it again.**

**Neera looked over her shoulder to her grandfather, saw he was still resting quietly and peered out the window to where Andjen was striding. He pointed to the tree of her choice and she nodded in an exaggerated manner. It only took a short time for him to cut the little tree and then he hoisted it over his shoulder, shaking off the snow from its branches at the same time. Before he came in, Andjen gazed into the forest, listening, or did he see something?**

**Whatever it was, he was soon stomping snow off his boots on the porch, and coming through the door. The chill wind brought a small whimper of sound from Grandper and Neera turned to check him. She pulled the blanket up around his thin shoulders. Then she turned to Andjen again. The tree was leaning up against the wall near the door and he was looking around. He seemed puzzled about something.**

**"What are you looking for?" she asked.**

**"Something to put on the bottom of the tree." He made a cross with his fingers, but that didn’t help her any. She did wonder how the tree would stand upright though. Andjen spied the ash bucket by the fireplace and smiled. "If one way won’t work, then maybe…." The bucket was empty and he stared at it for a moment before turning to the door again. "Be back." And he was, very quickly, with the bucket filled with snow. "Hope it doesn’t leak," he murmured. "But it looked new." Then Andjen rummaged through the cabinet where the food was stored, pulling out most of the remaining cans.**

**"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled.**

**"Something to keep the tree straight," he said as he packed the cans around the tree. "Of course, if we are here long enough," he paused and took in a deep breath. "If we are here long enough, I will have to find something else to keep the tree upright."**

**"What’s the snow for? It’s already melting."**

**"Even cut trees need water. You have picked flowers, haven’t you?"**

**She smiled and nodded. "Oh, I understand." Andjen finished and then checked the chili pot.**

**"You do have lanterns?" he asked over his shoulder.**

**She nodded and went into her bedroom where Grandper had left an extra flashlight. "There is a lantern under that cabinet, but Grandper wouldn’t let me do anything with it."**

**Andjen found it and then shook it slightly. "Where does he keep the . . . uh, fuel?"**

**Neera thought. She remembered Grandper using the lamp when the lights first went out, but she didn’t remember him refilling the lamp. She looked up and shook her head. "I’m sorry. I don’t know."**

**"That’s all right." He put another log in the fireplace, surveyed the dwindling pile he had split earlier in the afternoon and sighed softly. "We may have to use the fire for light as well as heat. I am going to cut some more wood." He gazed at the mess of chips and splinters on the floor and said, "I really should do this outside. More light anyway."**

**Neera nodded, only too glad. She worried the entire time that Andjen was outside, but it wasn’t too long before he was back in, carrying an armful of wood. Several more trips later and there was enough wood for the night. Neera found a candle and lit it, placing it in the middle of the little kitchen table. Andjen found bowls and she got the spoons. Neera laid out napkins, the small tin of crackers and two mugs of water.**

**"A meal fit for a king," he said, smiling at her as he ladled the chili into each bowl. Grandper moved slightly in his sleep and then settled with a soft moaning sigh. "We’ll try to get him to take some broth when we’re done," Andjen said. He picked up his spoon and started to eat.**

**Neera gazed at him expectantly, hands clasped together.**

**"Oh. Sorry. Um, who should say it?" he asked, looking uncomfortable.**

**She didn’t say anything for a moment, only thinking about things that had been said during the day—just as her Papa had taught her. "But you are an angel," she said with a mischievous smile.**

**"Now you are teasing me." He sighed. "I never said I was a real angel. I’m not and I think you know that."**

**"Why won’t you tell me your name? It was the same as making believe you were an angel."**

**Andjen sucked in a deep breath. "Neera, it is better that you do not know who I am."**

**"Why?"**

**"There are things you do not understand. Please, I am not here to hurt you. I promise."**

**She didn’t say anything for several minutes and then she looked up into his eyes. "I believe you, Andjen."**


	3. Chapter 3

**Later that night, when Neera was asleep in her grandfather’s bed, Andjen, AKA Captain Lee Crane, submarine commander and erstwhile agent for the Office of Naval Intelligence had time to really think and to lament the situation he was in. That he would miss his rendezvous on the coast was a given. If it had been a matter of only a day, that would have been okay as well, since his contact was going to remain for an extra day, but now? He had promised the old man, and besides, he couldn’t just leave the little girl and her grandfather here in the middle of nowhere in their present situation. He sighed and sipped on the lukewarm tea. Little girl? Did he actually refer to her as a little girl? Lee smiled. Neera was a six or seven year old going on twenty-seven. Of course, that was preferable to a bawling, whining, simpering six or seven-year-old.**

**Just before Neera had gone to bed, Grandper had awakened enough to drink some broth, take some tea with a couple more of the Republic’s version of Tylenol, and was back asleep. It was hard to tell by the light of the fire if the old man’s color was better, but he didn’t feel quite as feverish as he had earlier in the day. The bandage would have to be changed sometime tonight, he figured. The next time the old gentleman awoke. Until he had actually unwrapped the old man’s wound earlier, Crane had hoped that, somehow, when Grandper was conscious, he could take over. With a sigh, Lee slowly got to his feet. He was dead tired even without all this extra stress. When he had first spotted the cabin with no smoke coming from the chimney, Lee had thought—hoped—that he would be able to get a few hours of semi-warmth and sleep, and then take off for the coast again.**

**And the weather! Who would have known that an Eastern hemisphere version of an Alberta clipper would nail almost the entirety of the People’s Republic? Well, if he could keep a lookout, see when someone was making it up here after Neera and her grandfather, then he could slip away and stow away on someone’s fishing boat. Hell, he’d even try to commandeer one. But he couldn’t leave these two until he knew they would be safe.**

**Crane opened up the stove and checked to see if it needed another stick of wood. He shoved one in just to be on the safe side and then poured himself a little more hot tea to temper the chill of what he had left in his cup. Neera’s eyes had shown her trust in him and she had gone to bed without argument after they had cut out snowflakes and made tin foil balls and other simple things to put on the little tree sitting in its bucket in the far corner of the living room. The firelight twinkled on the foil and made the snowflakes turn to gold. Neera had laughed softly, trying not to wake her grandfather. The scene so much reminded him of Thanksgiving dinner with the Tirean orphans* less than a couple of weeks ago. Is that all? He looked at his watch. That was no help. He didn’t have on the special engraved one the admiral had given him. This was a non-descript one that didn’t have more than the time of day. He had thought this mission would be simple. Get the pictures, get the hell out and be home for Christmas. What a joke!**

**"Who are you?" asked the barely audible voice of Grandper. "Really? Who are you?"**

**Crane pivoted around. "Someone who’s here to help you," he answered, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to the older man.**

**"You aren’t from here. I can tell," Grandper said, struggling to sit up. "Are you here to kidnap my grand-daughter?"**

**"No, of course not, sir," Lee replied vehemently, appalled at the suggestion. "I . . . I just happened on your cabin, thinking it was empty and needing a place to rest for a while. The storm kind of came out of nowhere."**

**Grandper sighed. "I heard some of what you did with Neera tonight. The tree. The dinner. The stories. I know you didn’t intend her harm." With Lee’s help, he finally made it into a sitting position, propped with several pillows. "You are an American."**

**It was a statement. Crane sighed softly. "Sir, you know I can’t say anything about that. Nor would it be wise to tell you who I am."**

**The old man studied him for a moment before he said anything. "In case you are caught," the old man said with a nod. He lay back more heavily against the pillows.**

**Lee didn’t say anything for several minutes. It was true. He didn’t want this grandfather and his granddaughter to be in trouble with the regime because of him. "I need to change your bandages, sir and clean out the wound again. It was infected when I cleaned it earlier."**

**"Thank you for helping me," Grandper mumbled sleepily.**

**"You are welcome." Lee gathered up the bandages he and Neera had cut and rolled before she went to bed, the peroxide, clean washcloths and carried them back over to the bed where the old man lay half asleep. Grandper came a little more awake as Crane unrolled the old bandage. He said nothing as Lee attended to him. "I know this is going to hurt, sir, but I will try to be as gentle as I can. When I am finished, you’ll need to have some more broth." He continued to unwrap the bandage. When he finished, he saw much less evidence of infection than he had before. He smiled in satisfaction as he began to clean the wound. Grandper stiffened, but didn’t cry out. "It looks much better this time, Grandper," Lee told him.**

**"I am Nicoli, young man. You don’t have to be so formal."**

**"Nicoli, do you have something other than this to clean wounds?" Crane asked holding up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the scant light of the fire.**

**Nicoli studied the bottle. "Yes, there is a first aide kit in the bathroom that has antibiotic ointment."**

**"Lay still while I get it."**

**"Do you think I will be going anywhere?" the old man said gruffly.**

**"No, I was not trying to be…."**

**"I was only trying to make a joke," Nicoli interrupted, stifling a yawn.**

**"Oh." Crane took the flashlight and headed down the hallway. He quickly found the kit and returned to the old man’s side. He held the light on the contents while Nicoli watched.**

**"That one," Nicoli said, pointing. "You know our language well, but have not learned to read it, eh?"**

**Lee just smiled as he washed the wound gently with warm water. He patted around it and let the air dry it while he went to get Nicoli something to drink. When he handed the older man the mug of warm broth, he ventured a question. "Your granddaughter told me why you two were up here, but why on earth did you bring her up here alone?"**

**"You questioning my ability to take care of her?" he asked tersely, holding the mug in a tight fist. Then he sighed.**

**"No, sir, but this isolated a place I would think it would have been wise…." He stopped, feeling that he was getting in deeper and deeper. "Sorry, Nicoli, there was no disrespect intended."**

**Nicoli harrumphed and then sighed again. "I did have someone else. My nephew, Wu-jin came up with us. He tried to get down the mountain for supplies at the beginning of the storm."**

**Crane was incredulous, thinking of the older man trying to fend for himself and a little girl when all the utilities went down. "Wu-jin was stupid, then," he snapped. Then he realized the shaky ground he was on. "Sorry, sir, I know he was just trying to do the best he could, but it really would have been wiser for him to stay here and wait until the storm was over. Then you all could have tried to get out together, or," and he pointed toward the blinking transmitter, "waited for help to come to you." There was something different about the transmitter, Lee thought. Then it came to him—the little light was dimmer. Could the battery be going out? He decided to ignore it. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. "By the way, is there anymore fuel for the lantern?"**

**"No, that was one of the reasons Wu-jin tried to get down the mountain before the storm got too bad. I thought I had enough fuel for an emergency, but I was wrong. So it wasn’t entirely my nephew’s fault."**

**Lee kept his thoughts to himself in regards to his assessment of the missing nephew. "It was just one of those things. This kind of storm is very unusual, is it not? I suspect it took a lot of people by surprise." The old man was yawning furiously again, and Crane knew it wouldn’t be long before he was asleep again.**

**"Yes, it is a very unusual storm."**

**By the time Lee was finished re-wrapping the leg, Nicoli had finished his mug of broth and was fast asleep. He gazed at the dimming transmitter for a few minutes as he sat by the fire, trying to stay awake. He felt his head nodding toward his chest. This wouldn’t do, Lee thought. He needed to stay awake, but how long could he do that? With a mental shrug, Crane added another log to the fire, banked the fire in the stove so the coals would remain hot for morning and then arranged himself on the couch so he could keep an eye on the older man should Nicoli have difficulties. Only then did he succumb to his body’s need for rest.**

**December 7** **th**

**Neera crept out from under the thick comforter the next morning and shivered at the freezing cold that greeted her. It was so cold she could see her breath. Shivering, she threw on her robe and then took care of her needs in the small bathroom that was even colder than the bedroom. That done, she quickly found her slippers and then tiptoed into the living room. Andjen was asleep on the couch, Grandper on the bed. The room was colder than it was when she went to bed, but not as cold as the rest of the cabin.**

**As quietly as she could, she slipped to the fireplace and sat on the hearth. Several split logs were sitting next to her and she carefully moved the grate to put one in on top of the hot coals. The log sat on top of the mound and then settled with a shower of sparks and what sounded to her ears like a roaring avalanche of half burned wood and ash.**

**"Good morning, Neera," Andjen said sleepily, his voice low.**

**"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you," she said, disappointed, her voice also just above a whisper.**

**"I needed to get up. It looks as though the sun has risen already." He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Did you sleep well?"**

**"Yes, I did, thank you. Sure was cold when I got out of bed, though." Neera looked toward Grandper and saw that he still slept.**

**Andjen must have seen her look. "He is doing much better. He only needs to build up his strength lost when he bled so much. That and a . . . crutch to keep from walking on the injured leg later." He made a motion of what he was talking about and she understood.**

**"How will you do that?"**

**"Not sure yet, but I’m going to look around the cabin and see what I can find."**

**"Grandper has a cane that Grandmere used before she . . . died," Neera offered.**

**Andjen shook his head. "No, he needs something that will help him better than a cane." He paused. "But I will look after breakfast." He turned toward the cabinets. "Hmm, what should we have for breakfast?"**

**Neera just shrugged. "Grandper only had oatmeal stuff for breakfast," she said with a slight grimace.**

**Andjen raised an eyebrow. "That’s all?"**

**She nodded.**

**He smiled and shook his head. "Got to be something we can do about that," he said. Andjen began looking through cabinets, pulling out several things. "You are right, there isn’t much." He rummaged some more. "But I think we can at least do something to the oatmeal to improve it."**

**By the time he was done, she was eating oatmeal the likes of which she had never tasted before. It had raisins, a little bit of sugar, and the juice from a can of cherries, which Andjen said they would have with their mid-day meal. Even Grandper, when he awoke, had a little bit. She didn’t think he liked it quite as well as she had, but he ate what was in his bowl quickly enough.**

**After talking with her grandfather, Andjen did something to Grandper with a piece of string. Neera didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing stretching the string from the bottom of Grandper’s foot to his armpit. Then Neera knew. Andjen was measuring Grandper. Soon Andjen bundled up in his coat and gloves and then braved the cold to go out to the little shed at the back of the cabin. He was there for over an hour, but Neera wasn’t concerned. The cabin was warm from the crackling fire and the cook stove, almost too warm, in fact. Neera noticed that the clouds were not quite as low today, something that made her cheerful and a bit sad at the same time. She wondered about that. By the time Andjen had returned with a long, straight stick and a shorter one, she had pulled out a few things she thought would be interesting to have for lunch. There was less to choose from today and Neera wondered how many more days they could stay here before their food ran out. She looked at the Christmas tree, saw the dancing little ornaments and smiled. They would have enough and be warm enough and Grandper would get well so they could all return home to Papa. She knew it.**

**Again she wondered about Andjen—how he had been up here, why he wouldn’t tell her his name, where he was from? She studied him as he worked the two pieces of wood with a knife, digging at a hole in the smaller piece, shaping the end of the larger, occasionally trying to fit the two together. Grandper was asleep on the bed again. "Tell me a Christmas story, Andjen. Can you do that while you work?"**

**He stopped and looked thoughtful, then nodded.**

**"Tell me one about when you were little," she coaxed. "What did you do at Christmas?"**

**He looked even more thoughtful, studied her dark brown eyes a moment before speaking. The knife didn’t dig quite as hard, but that was okay. She sat by the fire to listen to him. "One of the things we always did when I was young was someone read the Christmas story from the Bible my father kept in the living room."**

**"I don’t have one of those," Neera said.**

**"Right now, I don’t either, so I’ll have to tell you the best I can remember it." So he did, his rich, soothing voice describing the place and events so that she could see them in her mind. When he was done, the crutch was still only half finished and she noticed that Grandper was awake and watching.**

**"That is what we did when I was little," the old man said. "You did that very well, Andjen."**

**Andjen’s cheeks colored a bit. She didn’t know why, but he finally said to grandfather, "It’s been a long time, Nic . . . er Grandper."**

**Grandper looked at Neera and told her, "In my bedroom, in a box on the floor of the wardrobe. Bring the box to me."**

**She did as she was told, wondering at the heaviness of the box. Neera was tempted to open it up and look before she took it to him, but she didn’t. After she had laid it down next to him, he gently pulled the top off the box. It was a huge book, and it looked very old. "What?" she began.**

**"It’s the old Bible that has been handed down from father’s to children for four generations." Neera looked puzzled. "It’s over a hundred years old, my child," Grandper said. "You can sit here quietly and look at the pictures."**

**Gladly she did so. Andjen continued to whittle, the fire crackled merrily and outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes. She gazed in rapt attention at the pictures in the book.**

*****the orphans that Lee and Chip rescued in the story, The Little Army. Some of them decided to emigrate to the states where they became the wards of various crewmembers' families.


	4. Chapter 4

December 9, 0900 hours, UTC+8 (coordinated universal time)

**One thing that Crane fretted over was the fact that although the infection seemed to be in abeyance, Nicoli still didn’t have the strength to use the crutch he had crudely put together. At least not more than the occasional trip to the head. Once the old man could get around, he would be more able to take care of his granddaughter until rescue came. And that would allow Lee the opportunity to still escape.**

**The other thing that worried Lee was related to the first thing. The food supply was rapidly dwindling and what was left wasn’t that great for building up strength in someone who had lost a great deal of blood. He gazed at the several cans of vegetables and beans in distaste. The chili had taken the last, or rather he should say, the only canned beef and it was gone by lunch of the second day. The canned chicken was dinner and didn’t last beyond that meal. Yesterday was a variety of soups, none of which had enough protein to do more than satisfy the taste buds of a young girl. Lee had tried to supplement it with more bullion, but that had only made them thirstier.**

**His stomach growled and he mentally ordered it to cease and desist. As it continued to grumble, Lee quickly realized that he had better luck with green rates. Sighing, he laid the cans on the counter and looked outside the window. Today, the fourth day, the sun was trying to come out, peeking between clouds that seemed to want to hang on, but didn’t have the energy to do so. The temperatures appeared to be on the rise, although the wind was still enough to take your breath away. Still in all, he would have to go hunting after he had fixed something out of that conglomeration on the counter. There was water in the large pot and he threw in the last of a survival box of dried rice and along with a couple of cans of mixed vegetables and a can of navy beans. Another irony, he thought. He set the pot on the hottest eye and threw another couple of sticks of wood in the stove.**

**"Trying for a feast, Andjen?" Nicoli asked, not unkindly.**

**Lee shrugged. He knew that the old man was aware of their situation. Nicoli had apologized several times during the past couple of days when Neera hadn’t been in the room. "Dr. Seuss stew," he threw over his shoulder without thinking.**

**"Who’s Dr. Seuss?" Neera asked, climbing on the stool near the stove to see what he was doing.**

**Lee mentally groaned. As hard as he tried to give as few clues to his nationality, he still let slip when he wasn’t thinking. "Um, someone who came up with some weird ideas."**

**"Oh," she said. She had learned over the past few days that when he gave an answer that vague, she wasn’t going to get any more out of him.**

**Lee had so smile to himself. She was a sharp cookie, he had to grant her that. Still and all, he would have much preferred to be at the Institute right now, enjoying the camaraderie of his friends and family there. It would be good to get back home. He paused in his thoughts. Here he was in a foreign enemy country, a spy, without the means to get out anymore and he was thinking about going home? There was always that chance, he admonished himself, but…. He stopped the thought. There was no way he was going to just leave these two. Not until he knew they would be safe.**

**He watched the simmering pot. The rice was swelling and the bullion, beans and vegetables were making a pretty decent aroma despite the blandness of the individual ingredients. Cookie wouldn’t be impressed, Lee thought with a smile, but it would do for the day. After everything had cooked for a bit, he turned to Nicoli. "Do you have a rifle?"**

**Nicoli was sitting on the couch with his foot propped up. He raised an eyebrow at the question and then asked, "For hunting?"**

**"Yes, Grandper," Lee answered respectfully. The older man had finally given in to Lee’s form of address. While Nicoli wasn’t as old as his grandfather would be if still alive, he was older and Lee had been taught as a child to respect that. "We need something more than beans and carrots." He nodded toward the tree that was now propped up with split logs.**

**"A rifle will be very loud," Nicoli said softly. Neera looked puzzled, but Lee knew exactly what the old man was referring to and felt a rush of gratitude toward this man who was a friend in an enemy country.**

**Lee didn’t know how deep Nicoli’s loyalties to the government ran. The older man hadn’t praised or vilified the People’s Republic leadership; hadn’t mentioned them at all. And of course, Lee hadn’t either. He shrugged. "Fresh meat will not come to me, I am not good at archery even if I had a bow and arrows, and trapping is too slow even if you did have traps. Even a rabbit will be enough for a meal; or to supplement one," he said, ruefully looking into the pot again. Lee pulled it off the hottest part of the stove to simmer.**

**"I’ve never had a rabbit before," Neera said softly, her look something between horror and curiosity.**

**"Rabbit is very good in a stew, Neera," Lee assured her.**

**She glanced at Grandper for his reaction and he nodded. "Yes, I have a rifle on the top of the wardrobe. The shells are there, too," Nicoli said, answering Lee’s previous question.**

**"Good. I’ll chop some more wood and then set out. If I’m not back for lunch, the soup will be sufficient and it will be warm. Whether I get anything or not, I will be back before dark," he promised.**

**"Be careful," Nicoli said solemnly.**

**Crane put on the parka and other gear he had been wearing when he found the cabin. It had been given to him by his contact and had kept him very warm. He reached inside the inner pocket and felt the thin packet of microfilm smaller than a teabag and wondered if he should take it with him or not. Something told him not to. It was one of those by the gut feelings, not anything reason figured out. Most of the time those kinds of intuitions turned out to be right. He glanced around, even as he put the parka on. The tree was leaning a bit more than it had been the night before and that gave Lee an idea. He strode over and made motions to right it, his body hiding most of his actions. "Going to need to find something more to straighten this out," he murmured loud enough for the other two to hear him. One of the larger tin foil ornaments was more than sufficient to hide the tiny packet. Lee folded and crimped the edges and put the ornament back on the tree.**

**With that done, he turned and pulled his gloves out of his larger pocket. "I’ll get the wood done," he commented unnecessarily, then headed out the door, shutting it quickly to keep out the still cold wind. He was sweating an hour later after he had split enough wood to keep the cabin warm for another day or so. Laying the ax down, he gathered an armload and walked to the door. As if by magic, it opened wide enough for him to walk through. "Thanks, Neera," Lee said as he stacked the wood by the fireplace. "Let me get another load. That should be enough to do through the afternoon."**

**Within a short while, Crane had the rifle and was heading out into the woods. Small patches of blue showed among the clouds and the wind was moderating a bit. He wouldn’t have long before road crews would be out in force. If they had been able to get a fix on that transmitter before it died, it would not take someone very long to get up to the cabin. Perhaps Wu-jin or government officials. It would be only as long as it took to clear the road. Something else to keep an eye out for, he thought sourly. If he got some game close to the cabin quickly; if he saw people already up on the mountain before he got back, then he could take off cross country and still have a chance.**

**In the two-day-old snow, he saw faint tracks cutting across his trail and he studied them. Could be a rabbit, but he had become a more fair weather boy and wasn’t sure. The snow was still powdery and where it had drifted, it was difficult to wade through. He tried to keep to the more scoured areas between trees. In the distance, Crane heard the soft pounding of some sort of machinery. How far was it, he thought? He had been going downhill from the cabin, but he saw another rising slope and decided that he needed to see if he could detect what was in the valley below them. Pulling out the tiny compass he had in a different inner pocket than he had kept the film, Lee determined to head east. That way if there were people close enough to rescue Nicoli and Neera, he’d be already heading in the right direction.**

**Then he thought of the microfilm. Damn! If he had it, he could just take off for the coast right now. Couldn’t be more than thirty, forty miles. Suddenly the pounding noise became a more distinct whump, whumping noise and Crane realized why the space between his shoulder blades had prickled. A helicopter! And it was close. Coming up from the valley. He ducked between trees and lit out in as close to an easterly direction as he could go and still stay hidden. His eyes darted around for the more dense copses, caves, anything that would better hide him, keep him from the detection devices of the approaching helicopter.**

**It was close enough that it beat not only the air, but upon his senses, buffeting the very marrow of his bones. There was no help for it; he had to continue. Tree limbs whipped and the snow cascaded down on his head and shoulders as he continued, threatening to blind him. They must have more sophisticated detection equipment out. They must have not only found out he was in the country, but also figured out which area he had been holing up in or direction he had been taking when this storm had hit. Now Lee was glad he had left the cabin when he did. Now he wouldn’t be caught with the girl and her grandfather and they wouldn’t be incriminated by his presence.**

**A cave! He knew there were caves in these mountains, but where? Where the hell else could he lose the tenacious helicopter? Very dense trees lay ahead of him; so dense that is seemed almost black under their limbs. A startled deer, a young buck by the look of the short spikes that preceded antlers, almost ran him over as it burst out of the dense copse. It ran back along the way he had come and Lee dashed into the trees. There was a momentary lull as the helicopter overshot and continued up the slope. He could dare to hope, but not too much. Lee continued, but followed the more dense areas, taking him a bit more south. That was okay with him right now. He was willing to go with anything that would give him a chance and the heavy forest seemed to be his best chance. The whumping continued to diminish and Lee had hope. He kept going, not slowing down even when it seemed that he wasn’t being pursued.**

**His breath came in panting clouds right now, the slight pain in his side was growing to something he couldn’t ignore, but something he had to. He needed to find a cave, a place he could crawl into and hide for a few minutes out of reach of the surveillance. The trees seemed to follow around the slope, not climbing up the steeper sides of this mountain. Lee continued along their line to the far side, then clambered down the rocks to a narrow valley filled with pines. He crossed and started up the next slope, when a smaller, faster helicopter zeroed down on him from the east. Crane ducked back behind the rocks and tried to continue using them as a quasi-shield from detection. It zipped above him and on up the slope and he had hope that his white Nordic wear had hidden him. Then he smelled it. Something in the air, something sweet and metallic and he knew, even as his senses closed down—he knew that he had lost. They had him. The rifle clattered on the rocks from his nerveless fingers even as he fell to the ground retching at the cloying, strangling scent of gas. Then there was nothing but a bitter echo. He had lost. He had played a dangerous, stupid game and had lost.**

**=======================**

December 9th, 1700 hours, UTC+8

**Nicoli heard the thumping sound on the door and sent Neera to peer out the window. They had spent almost the whole day wondering where Andjen was, fearful for his safety, fearful for their own. Several helicopters had flown overhead, but had gone away. Most of the rest of the afternoon it had been fairly quiet. He and Neera had eaten the soup in veritable silence. Only the crackling of the new logs in the fire broke the silence for long spaces of time.**

**Nicoli alternated napping with worry. He practiced with the crutch, clumping clumsily until he was worried he’d fall and do more damage. Then he would sit down. Neera sat on one end of the couch, looking through the old family Bible, tracing the curlicues of the beginnings of each chapter with her finger. "Do you think…?" she would begin.**

**"He’s all right," he would answer. This happened several times. When the afternoon waned, he had told her to fetch another cup of the soup for each of them. He didn’t remember what it tasted like this time anymore than he had the first. Why in the world, the old man berated himself mentally, would he be worried about an American interloper in his country? The man was probably a spy of some kind. It would serve him right to be captured. And yet, when he thought of such things, he would invariably feel a stabbing of guilt. Andjen had stayed because of them. But what if he had stolen dangerous secrets, or was an assassin or something of that sort? Then he and Neera would have done the People’s Republic a favor. Still, the man had done nothing but good for them. How could an assassin be so honorable, so compassionate to their needs? His mind was a turmoil of conflicting thoughts and reasoning.**

**Then came the knock.**

**"Grandper, it’s Uncle Kroshna! We have been rescued!" Then her face fell. "What about Andjen?"**

**"I would guess that our rescuers found him or he has continued to where he came from," Nicoli observed.**

**"He wouldn’t leave us, would he?"**

**"He would if he thought we were safe, Neera. Now open the door before that big mastodon breaks it down," Nicoli told her.**

**She did so and the burly man walked through the door, his eyes darting back and forth in the room. Finally he turned back to her and Nicoli. "You are both unhurt?"**

**"Except for the wound that I inflicted on myself trying to split wood, we are very well, Kroshna," Nicoli replied.**

**"Yes, Andjen took very good care of us!" Neera said excitedly. "He saved us."**

**Kroshna looked puzzled, his brows coming together like a brush pile in the middle of his forehead. Normally, Neera would have giggled at such a sight, but this time she was too intent on telling her information. "Yes, he came when Grandper was very sick and he took care of both of us."**

**"Andjen?" the large man asked.**

**"Yes!" she repeated. "Andjen. He came right in the middle of the storm, like someone God sent."**

**Kroshna frowned again, but didn’t say anything for a moment. "Where is this angel now?" he asked warily.**

**"Who knows about such things, Comrade? If an angel, then back to heaven where angels come from," Nicoli said seriously.**

**Kroshna looked skeptical but finally nodded and then smiled indulgently. "Ah, but you are safe now. I will take you to your Papa, Neera, and your Grandper to a doctor. I will return with the others in the rescue vehicle. You both remain here." Kroshna left and shut the door behind him.**

**"But Grandper, what about Andjen?"**

**Nicoli looked thoughtful. "Neera, I think it would be better to say nothing else about Andjen."**

**"Why?"**

**"Because . . . well, I don’t think he was supposed to be here. He would be in very big trouble if he were found. So if we don’t say anything for several days, Andjen will be able to get away and back to his home."**

**Before Neera could say anything else, they heard the sound of an engine chugging it’s way closer and closer. Soon it stopped in front of the cabin. Nicoli knew she wanted to ask more questions, but he shook his head as heavy steps were heard on the porch.**

**Kroshna came back into the cabin, another man behind them.**

**"By the way, Kroshna, did you find Wu-Jin?" Nicoli asked.**

**Kroshna nodded. "He was found dead at the bottom of the mountain."**

**Neera gasped. "Uncle?"**

**"Yes," Kroshna said tersely. "We must go now."**

**"Not until the fires are put out and the place readied for our departure."**

**Kroshna shook his head. "No, Comrade Nicoli. I will have a man clean up the place and put out the two fires. You and Neera must go down now."**

**This time Nicoli didn’t argue. There was nothing else he could say until he saw his son.**

**Neera ran to the little tree and began gathering ornaments from its drooping branches. She stuffed them in with her clothes that she had carried up in a large overnight bag. Then she stood stiff by Nicoli. "I am ready to go." Still as they left the cabin and got into the mountain vehicle, she looked around, as though expecting Andjen to step out of the woods. He didn’t, even as Nicoli figured he wouldn’t.**


	5. Chapter 5

December 9th, 1300 hours, EST

**Admiral William Johnson looked at the top secret decoded message and uttered several luckily indistinct oaths. He sighed and then punched his intercom. "Becky?"**

**"Yes, Admiral," came the quick reply.**

**"Call Harriman Nelson for me. Make sure it’s on the secure line."**

**"Yes, sir," Becky said.**

**This was when he wished he hadn’t quit smoking. Johnson drummed his fingers, read the report again and then reached for his coffee mug before he realized he had finished it just before the message came. He looked up at the clock on the wall and sighed. It would probably take a while to get Nelson; the man was so busy. It was simply a busy time of year. And that was something else. What the hell had possessed him to even send someone over there this time of year? What the hell was making him think this way? Since when did a season, month, day or an event have anything to do with intelligence gathering. Johnson sighed. He was getting to be a sentimental old fool. But he couldn’t help it.**

**When the word came that confirmation of CIA information had to be acquired ASAP, he had sent in his closest available agent. _Seaview_ was working on a research mission north of the Philippines, planting a device to study the effects of tsunamis. So it had been very easy to call on Captain Crane. Lee Crane, who had skirted death way too many times—not just with ONI but with the Institute’s own dangerous assignments. This one should have been very easy, though. Go in and get the intell before the summit. Damn them and their dirty stinking politics! All this just because of that blasted summit! The one the press was now calling the Christmas summit.**

**He was startled out of his guilty reverie when the intercom buzzed and Becky said, "Admiral Nelson on the line, sir."**

**"That was quick," he muttered under his breath. Then he took a deep breath to speak to Nelson. The man was going to be livid. Understatement, William, old boy, he thought morosely. Nelson would probably reach through that blasted vid-phone and strangle him. "Put him on," was all he told his secretary.**

**"Yes, sir."**

**It was an almost instantaneous voice connection. "Bill? What’s up? And it can’t be good if you’re calling me personally."**

**"Secure line?"**

**"Of course it is, Bill," Nelson snapped. "What do you take me for?" The video followed the acid remark. No, Harry didn’t look at all happy.**

**In fact, Nelson had the look of having been up all night. He had known the timetable just as Johnson had. What the hell could have kept Lee from the rendezvous? Johnson’s inner wrangling continued even as he addressed the admiral. "Sorry, had to ask. And no, Harry, it’s not good." No use pussyfooting around this one. "He was captured by the People’s Guard and taken to Zinitch Prison at about mid-day, Republic time."**

**There was a sharp intake of breath, then several explosive expletives. Finally, "Admiral . . . Bill, you know and I know that this was simply a ploy by an overzealous cabinet member to have something dirty for the president to hold over the Republic’s president at that summit."**

**"No, Harry, we needed that information. We needed verification of what had been leaked to us last month. We have to know if the Republic is working on that top-secret sub project."**

**"Need to know? You’re clutching at straws, Bill! Besides, I thought that was supposed to be one of the main topics of discussion at that Christmas Eve summit. Couldn’t all this verification crap have waited until our side and the Republic’s side met? And what the hell difference does it make anyway? We built _Seaview _as more than a research vehicle and we knew it and they knew it. Hell, the whole world probably knows it." Nelson rubbed his hand through his ginger-colored hair and shook his head.**

**Again, Johnson sighed, heavily enough that Nelson picked it up on the other end.**

**"Sorry, Bill, but I can’t believe but what I’m right about the timing of this"**

**"You are probably right, dammit," Johnson said softly, starting to rub his hand over his eyes. There was a lot that Harry could have said right then—things about him being too quick to act on directives without asking questions, too trusting, throwing lives into the fire, so on and so forth.**

**"Anything . . . any strings you can pull?"**

**There was a lot of held back emotion in those six hopeful words. "No, Harry, I don’t think so. They have him dead on this time, but you know I will take all measures . . . I’ll do anything I can to get Lee out of there if there is any possible way."**

**"I know, and I also know that nothing short of a miracle will get him out of this one." There was a pause. "But try, please. Try, Bill."**

**Johnson felt his eyes smarting. Yeah, he knew about Zinitch Prison. How it’s reputed to be a one-way trip…. He blinked fiercely and reined in his emotions. All the times he had given Crane assignments; all the times he had sweat bullets; all the times his part-time operative had pulled them off…. Now, the inevitable had happened. He had had a bad feeling from the beginning…. "I’m sorry, Harry. So close to the holidays. I’m sorry."**

**"I’ll talk to you later," Nelson said, not unkindly, and closed the connection.**

December 9th, 0800, HST.

**Nelson briefly held his head in his hands, then rubbing his eyes fiercely, he got up. No use to delay the inevitable. Morton, hell, all of them were awaiting word. They didn’t know where their skipper was, they didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but they knew it was another ONI errand and they always worried and fretted.**

**He almost bumped into Chip when he left his cabin. "Chip."**

**"Admiral. Any word?" Worry lines furrowed his exec’s forehead.**

**The same litany. "Yes. Come into my cabin, please."**

**"Not good," Chip said, but did as he was told.**

**"Sit down."**

**"Sir?" But Chip Morton again did as he was told.**

**"I just got a call from Admiral Johnson."**

**"About Lee?"**

**Nelson pulled a cigarette out from a half finished pack and lit it. "Yeah…." And he proceeded to tell his exec what he had been told, sparse though it was.**

**"The men deserve to know," was Morton’s only verbal response. However, the stricken look on his face, the anger that flashed in his sapphire blue eyes, showed the turmoil and anguish the young exec was feeling.**

**"They deserve to know, but they also can’t say anything to anyone off boat. Despite the virtual impossibility of anyone being able to do anything, we have to let ONI, the State Department and anyone else who has some clout to try and get Lee out."**

**"And what can we do, Admiral?" Morton asked pointedly.**

**Harry leaned back and sucked in a deep breath, unmindful of the cigarette in is hand. "I’ll try to get a hold of my contacts," was all he said. Not that he felt they had a snowball’s chance in hell, but he’d try, all the way up to the president.**

**"Thank you, sir," Morton said woodenly. Nelson knew that Chip understood the situation as well as he did. "Do you want me to tell the men?"**

**Nelson shook his head. "No, I think I should."**

**"Aye, sir. Anything else?"**

**"No, Chip." Again, he paused. "I guess all we can do is hope . . . and pray." Silently, Morton got up and left. Nelson didn’t even hear the door shut behind him.**

December 9th 1400 hours, EST

**Secretary of State Vince Walland pinched the bridge of his nose hard with fingers that would rather have been playing racquetball at the moment. "What a hell of a situation," he muttered, as he looked over the secret dispatch he received about the time that he had received the call from the Office of Naval Intelligence. Johnson was on the line with him, but didn’t say anything in response to his comment. "Don’t your agents know the dangers when they go in? Don’t they know the risks?" Walland snapped angrily.**

**"Of course they do, Mr. Walland, but they also have reasonable expectations that they have the backing of their government and the backing they need to get the job done." There was a throat clearing sound and then Johnson continued, "And that what they are doing is indeed the only viable way to do it," the admiral said.**

**The man sounded as though he had just sent his own grandson into the People’s Republic. Not good for the head of an intelligence organization. When you lost your ruthlessness, your objectivity…. "It was the only viable way to get the information!" he barked. "We needed to know what they have and what they are doing. We needed that before the summit! And you needed to send your best man in—someone who could go in, know what he was looking at, get it and get the hell out! What the hell was Crane doing in there, playing cards with the head of the People’s Guard?"**

**"I don’t have that information, sir. I only know that he missed his two rendezvous and it was another day and a half before we got the word that he had been taken."**

**"So he was AWOL for over two days and no one knows where." At the admiral’s affirmative, he continued, his voice terse. "Then he is stew meat, Admiral. Our operatives, whether Navy, CIA or anyone else, know what the risks are if they are caught. We can’t acknowledge them or their missions. You know that."**

**"He is also the captain of _Seaview_…."**

**"So? Makes it easier to point fingers, Admiral. We didn’t send him in, Nelson must have…." Even as he said it, Walland knew he had gone too far. Even if the statement hadn’t been so crass, Harriman Nelson had too many friends in too many high places, including the Oval Office. One of them obviously was Admiral William Johnson. Walland cleared his throat.**

**There was a dangerous, but short pause on the other line. Then, "So the State Department isn’t even going to protest the imprisonment without trial of a U.S. citizen?" Johnson asked evenly, his voice holding a very hard edge. "So Crane is going to be left to dangle?"**

**"I’m sorry, Admiral. That was callous of me. No, I will make inquiries, see if I can find out if he’s being treated with some degree of civility, then get back to you." He took a deep breath, needing to say something that might make clear his position without getting back into hot water. "You do know, however, that there is little we can do if they want to try Crane and then execute him as a spy. He was there covertly."**

**"Yes, I know."**

**Walland cut the connection and sighed again. Who would he get to call the Republic’s diplomatic envoy? He snorted. There was a spy network if he ever saw one. Sure as hell wished he could nail one of Kochin’s operatives as easily as the Guard had seemed to catch Crane. Damn him. What the hell was he doing over there? No, he needed to do this himself, Walland supposed. He leaned over, "Nancy, get Kochin at the PR consulate. Tell him it’s important, no matter what excuses he gives."**

December 9th 1430 hours, EST

**Linwood Macon, personal secretary of the President of the United State looked at his message board in dismay. There was a call from Sergei Kochin, the People’s Republic envoy, from Admiral Harriman Nelson and from the Secretary of State. That was just the calls he had taken. The president had direct wire and computer links, too. So among the calls, who got the first grab at the president? Eenie meenie miney mo…. Taking a stab at something that might be slightly pleasant, even though all of the parties had claimed urgency, Macon chose Nelson. The president liked Admiral Nelson. The retired four-star had saved the president’s butt politically and physically on more than one occasion.**

**He sent a prayer heavenward and pushed the button that would have him speaking with the president. "Mr. President, do you have time to talk to Admiral Harriman Nelson?" There was a pause as Macon listened. "Yes, sir, I will have the admiral on the line in five minutes."**

**More button pushing, and within five minutes, Nelson was on the line. Okay, thought Macon, go to it, gentlemen. Hopefully this phone call would net him a wee dram of Nelson’s gift to the president this year, too. Smoothest Scotch that had ever touched his palate, it was.**

December 10th 0700 hours, UTC+8 

**President Nirhan Li Kocerin studied the report with a mixture of irritation and glee. The glee was that he finally had another one of the agents who had been a thorn in his side for the past several years. Commander Lee Crane had about as many lives as a proverbial cat and had been slipperier to catch than that submarine of his. Now he had both. He had Crane, who would eventually die for his crime of spying and anything else he could lay at the American’s feet, and before the man died, Kocerin would have his secrets.**

**He stood up behind the massive oak desk and gazed out the window at the rising sun. The light turned the room a warm gold, matching his mood. He was a well-muscled man of almost fifty, above average height for the norm in his country. Kocerin had always had good health, and he worked hard to maintain it as he got older, exercising when his schedule would allow. He was endowed with a great deal of energy as well, allowing him to work long hours and sleep for few. With hands he had been told were more suited to a piano player’s, he toyed with the handlebar mustache that was also a great pride of his. It wasn’t huge, but considered elegant by the women citizens of the Republic. His dark eyes watched the skyline of the capital city of Jinzhou as the sun turned it to gold as well. Too bad it wasn’t real. He was well aware of the horrific poverty beneath the appearance of vitality and progress.**

**Kocerin frowned. Because of a variety of reasons, the Republic had not fared well these past few years. Overzealous predecessors had thought the destiny of the People’s Republic was to conquer and own the world. Or destroy their enemies by any means. His immediate predecessor had tried several times to launch nuclear attacks on the United States. His failure and the resulting censure had cost him his life.**

**Idiots! Why couldn’t they see that there were other ways to conquer these days? Hadn’t they studied the rise and fall of men like Hitler? Now, with the excesses of the past, the failures of war and aggression, the country was almost in a state of economic ruin. Thankfully, he had been able to keep a tight lid on that information, but still, Kocerin was sure that the western nations had a pretty good idea. Negotiation was the only way to deal with the enemy now. Even if to lull them into a false sense of their own superiority.**

**It would be nice to have the ability to trade with more than those countries in as much or more trouble than the Republic. So this capture, while ultimately satisfying to him, was going to be a sore point when he went to Cheju Island for the summit later in the month. But the man was spying! While the United States, its president and that other thorn in the side, Admiral Harriman Nelson could and would squawk and protest, he had Crane. And they knew it.**

**Of course, the trial would have to be conducted in a manner so that no one from any of the enemy nations could say anything about torture, coercion or the like. Crane would be tolerably treated, the trial conducted with the proper decorum, with even the American envoy in attendance, if he so desired, and then the sentence of death pronounced, all quite legal. After the furor had died down, the real interrogation would begin.**

**Besides that, Kocerin had his own questions that he wanted answered. What was Crane doing up there in the mountains all that time? Where had he stayed? This was a case he had every intention of keeping a close eye on, even as he tried to figure out a way to control the damage that Crane’s capture and trial would have at the negotiation table.**


	6. Chapter 6

December 10th, 2000 UTC+8

**Commander Lee Crane, dressed only in a towel wrapped around his waist, looked at the course, grayish prisoner’s garb that had been thrust into his hands in distaste. Peering more closely, he noticed that one of the specks of dirt was moving. Vermin. He looked up at the guard who had given him the clothes and said, "Why bother with all the stripping, fumigating and examining if I’m going to get something infested with bugs?" A little of his question was in English, because he didn’t know all the words in the Sino-Slavic language.**

**Suddenly he found himself down on the floor, his diaphragm on fire from the hard blow of the rifle butt, his breath gone. Lee was jerked up by a hand grasping his hair and he gulped in air savagely and made ready to knock the man’s teeth out. His fellows with cocked rifles quickly changed his mind and Crane rose to his feet as the man raised the fist still clutching his hair.**

**"You will only speak when you have been addressed and given permission to speak. Do you understand?"**

**Lee said nothing for a moment, but backed down when he saw the hard gleam in the guard’s eyes. "Do I have permission to speak?" he asked tersely. Two could play this game, he thought, still feeling sick, as well as humiliated, despondent and contrary at the same time.**

**He had awakened from knockout gas in the back of a military transport vehicle, been violently ill again, and felt totally debilitated by the mother of all headaches. So sick had he been, that he hadn’t even felt the chains that bound his hands together until the end of the journey. Then he had been jerked from the transport just as the sun was rising over the eastern hills and half dragged into a prison, which he later realized had to be the notorious Zinitch Prison. He had vaguely remembered hearing about the execution of a British spy here only a few months ago, as well as mass executions of dissidents about a decade ago.**

**The guard almost growled and then he grinned, nothing humorous, and replied, "Yes, you may speak, prisoner."**

**"Yeah, I understand."**

**The guard’s eyes glittered with even hotter anger, but then cooled. "The only bug—vermin—in here is you." That sentence was in English, a detail that wasn’t lost on Crane in the least. The large man reverted back to his native tongue, probably for the benefit of the other guards, Lee later thought. "Get the clothes on unless you wish to sleep nude, because the towel stays with us. You don’t need it anymore." With that, he ripped the towel off his prisoner and then laughed. His fellow guards laughed with him.**

**Fuming, Lee quickly threw on the clothes. The pants were too large in the waist, so he had to hold them up with one hand. They were also too short in the leg, but that was of no consequence. The shirt was a shapeless piece of material that could have been a gunnysack with holes in strategic places for all that it fit him.**

**"Now, you will come with me. And do not try to do anything. Although we would love to see your change of attitude slowly, if you force us to, we will be happy to change it quickly with a bullet," the guard warned him. Lee said nothing. The guard stepped a pace closer. "You understand that, don’t you?"**

**"Permission to speak?"**

**The guard growled his irritation and then nodded.**

**"I understand perfectly and if I stay here long enough to change my attitude for the worse, I’ll remember your promise." It was dangerous, Lee thought, and stupid, as the open-handed blow to the side of his face reinforced, but a bit of defiance was all he had right now. The only thing he had, he thought as he quietly followed the guard down the cold and dank hallway, past barred doors and followed by the other guards with guns pointed toward his back.**

**The walk seemed interminable, ending in a flight of stairs, then another corridor. Halfway down that corridor they stopped at a small door with no window. The guard unlocked it, and pointed. Crane ducked and entered the dark room even as the door began to shut behind him.**

**"Your new home, prisoner. Get used to it." Then the door clanged shut with an echoing boom and Crane was left in the dark, his only companion the cold hard floor beneath his bare feet.**

**With a sigh, Lee rolled the waistband of his pants until they would stay up by themselves and then he began an examination of his cell. Hands outstretched, he encountered the left wall almost immediately. He slowly moved ahead, his fingertips brushing on the wall, coming up short when he barked his shins against a metal frame. It was the bed, he noted, feeling along the edges, running his fingers up the heavy, solid chains that were linked to rings on the wall. Those were set into the wall, held at a level angle by the chains, he catalogued.**

**Moving around the bed, Crane noted its size, about a foot and a half too short. Not surprised, he continued and found the far wall to be not so far after all, barely past the edge of the so-called bed. He continued to follow the wall around the room, feeling a depression with his toes and backing off slightly. His nose told him the use for that particular spot. Now to the wall that had been to his right when he entered the tiny cell. This time he made it to the door without any other obstacles. That was the extent of his explorations. He felt the walls up and down near the doorway. No switches, not that Crane was expecting any.**

**The far wall was the same. No windows or openings of any kind. He carefully climbed up on the bunk, a true rack, he decided with a wry twist of his mouth that was not the least like a smile. Reaching above his head, Lee found that the ceiling wasn’t more than a foot above the top of his head. Cracker box. He stopped and pondered his next option. There really wasn’t any, so he felt all along the top of his bed. No blankets, mattress, nothing but a hard concrete slab. With a sigh, he sat down and drew his knees toward his chest for warmth. It was damnably cold and the clothes, though coarse, weren’t holding in much warmth.**

**His stomach grumbled and Crane licked his dry lips. How long had it been? He had only tasted the soup the day before, not that it would have mattered. The gas has made him so ill that nothing could have stayed on his stomach. They had given him nothing after bringing him in. No wonder he had been light-headed when they had shipped him through the de-whatever it was chamber. That had been cold, too. He felt the walls. They were dank, but not wet. Maybe by morning, he thought. And with that he laid his forehead on his knees and tried to rest.**

**All that came to him, though, was the memory of the past fifteen or so hours. He had been interrogated, the Republic goon alternately shouting in his face or snarling out threats. However for some reason, the only physical force was a couple of times when an interrogator slapped him or shoved him back in his chair. Still and all, he had only repeated his name, rank and serial number ad nauseum. Almost drove himself crazy with it along with his interrogators. He wondered why they didn’t dose him with some truth serum. Maybe that was coming. Such wonderful thoughts, he decided, weren’t going to help him get to sleep.**

**There was one thing that puzzled him, though. They were accusing him of killing a citizen. Other than Neera, Nicoli and his contacts, he hadn’t been near anyone. There was no way he had shot anyone in the head like one of them had accused him of doing. But then, it would just be a bit more to nail his coffin with. Still, Lee wondered who might be dead that he was being accused of killing? He didn’t think they’d make up that part.**

**Again, Crane tried to shut down his thoughts and concentrate on how to get out of this mess. Problem was, he couldn’t. With everything he had seen while here, Lee couldn’t figure any way possible. No wonder this place had gotten the reputation it had. Finally, though, he began dozing, only to wake up shivering when he leaned against the cold wall. By morning, the dozing-shivering cycle was alternated by dreams of glasses of cold, delicious water, iced tea, and coffee. The dream coffee steamed and warmed, not only his throat and stomach, but also his hands and face as he held it close to him.**

December 11, 0700 hours, UTC+8

**Crane woke fully, stiff and sore, as well as horribly cold, to the sound of a key scraping in the keyhole of his cell door. He had no idea what time it was, as he was in a downstairs, windowless cell. Somehow, though, he got the impression that it must be morning. Above him he heard slight, indistinct noises that he took to be activity upstairs. He had to get up and move around, but first he was going to see what visitors this new day brought. Instead of a visitor, though, it brought a container through a little door at the bottom of the big one.**

**Crane immediately peered in while there was still a little light from the rations door, and deduced that it was water. It was hard to keep from snatching it up and gulping the precious liquid down, but he resisted. The door was closed and it was back to almost pitch darkness. Carefully, Lee felt for the container and wrapped his hands around it. Instead of quaffing it, he first stuck his finger down into the container and then licked it. Water! Plain, wonderful, beautiful water! Again, Lee almost started gulping it down, but again, he restrained himself and pondered. He took a sip. There wasn’t a taste that indicated any additives, but still….**

**If there were something in the water, he’d find out. Somehow, Crane didn’t think that they would want him dead just yet. There was political hay to be made of captured spies and the like. If the water was laced with some kind of truth serum, there would be nothing he could do about it. He picked up the small jug and began drinking. It slid down his throat so smoothly. Nectar wouldn’t have been tastier; some of the Admiral’s Scotch would never be this pleasant on the tongue, palate and on down the throat.**

**Lee drank about half of it before setting it down again. Just in case, if they didn’t bring him anymore today, he’d need to save some of it. It was hard, though. He kept reaching out and touching the jug, almost caressing it before he realized what he was doing and forced his hand away from the precious container.**

**Some time later, he didn’t know how long, the rasping of the smaller door heralded a kind of bucket. Again, the brief light told him that this time he had received some kind of food. When the light was gone, Crane put the container of water next to the wall in the corner nearest the door and examined the bucket. It was only slightly warm to the touch, so he stuck a finger in as he had done with the water. No utensils inside and the stuff in the bucket was somewhat gloppy, like the oatmeal he had fixed for Neera and Nicoli. He hadn’t been that interested in it, not ever having been fond of oatmeal, cream of wheat or any of that boyhood stuff. Now he wished for that concoction more than anything. At least it had had a semi-appetizing smell. This stuff? He held the bucket to his nose and simply couldn’t figure out what it was. At the same time his stomach told him to put up or shut up and he took a taste of the stuff.**

**The best he could figure it was some kind of rice pudding, gruel or something similar. The bite he ate stayed on his stomach and he used two fingers to scoop up more, careful to not let any drop to the floor. He ate several handfuls and then he stopped and leaned against the hard rim of the rack to let it digest. The way it was growling, his stomach wasn’t amused, but at least the food was staying down and hopefully would give him a bit of energy. For what, he wasn’t sure. After a while, hunger drove him to eat a little more. The lumpiness of his breakfast made him glad he couldn’t see it. Lee didn’t want to know what was in his meal. As long as it sustained him, he’d have to be grateful. When he finished, Lee exercised as much as the dark and the tiny space in his cell allowed him. After stretching, bending, doing push-ups and sit-ups, he ran in place. While he rested, he scratched the beard that had been almost three days in the making, then he scratched places where the vermin were beginning to make in-roads.**

**After that, in an effort to take his mind from his cellmates, Lee tried to out guess the People’s Republic leadership, wondering why he hadn’t been hauled out and interrogated some more. When the futility of that became apparent, he thought about Christmas, remembering some of the stuff he had told Neera. He wondered what she was doing right now. Had she gotten in trouble with her father? And Nicoli—how was the old man doing? With a sigh, Lee slid into thoughts of Christmases with his grandparents when he was a little boy. It was pleasant and almost took his mind from his surroundings.**

December 10th, 1900 hours, HST

**Harriman Nelson walked into the control room of his submarine and felt all eyes on him. The men had been told the bare bones facts yesterday, not that there was much else to tell them. Since that last announcement there had been little news. The president could only promise that diplomatic channels would be used and inquiries made, but beyond that? No, there were no promises of anything, much less getting Lee Crane out of Jinzhou and the People’s Republic. There had been the implication that the president would bring up the situation at the summit in twelve days if nothing had been accomplished in the meantime. Patterson had followed him all the way in with eyes that made him think of a pet from his youth. Chip waited anxiously, the mike in his hand.**

**Harry shook his head. "Nothing new. No promises, no additional information." Both men knew that Nelson had been on the horn almost the entirety of the past twenty-four hours.**

**Morton nodded and looked around the room. "As you were, men," he said softly.**

**"Admiral?" It was Chief Sharkey.**

**"Yes, Chief?"**

**"Isn’t there anything we can do? Anything at all? I mean…."**

**"No, Chief. Captain Crane knew the risks when he went in." Nelson took a deep breath. "Where he is now, we can’t do a thing. It’s up to the diplomats and heads of state."**

**Sharkey snorted and then shook his head sorrowfully. The man sometimes wore his feelings on his sleeve, but this time, Nelson couldn’t fault him.**

**Harry wished he could do something—anything to get Lee back. The summit would be the only chance, he was afraid; that is, if the People’s National Court didn’t convene, sentence and carry out the sentence before the next twelve days. No, they probably wouldn’t do that. The court would most likely convene, and may even get the sentence before December 22nd, but an execution? No, that wasn’t likely. From what he had heard, the People’s Republic needed this summit more than anyone else involved did. They were in dire straights insofar as economics were concerned. Shortages of just about everything due to embargoes and bad weather.**

**He had also heard that the new President, elected only a scant six months ago, wasn’t the power hungry despot that his two immediate predecessors were. Not that it was a great deal of consolation. Harry had heard that Nirhan Kocerin was still a tough as nails, truly patriotic and dedicated to making the People’s Republic a viable voice on the planet. That wasn’t a bad thing either, provided that the voice was aimed at peaceful coexistence. Then he began wondering about the summit—the Christmas Summit they were calling it. How many countries were involved? Many of the Pacific Rim countries. He wondered how it would be received if he was there. Of course, Seaview wouldn’t be allowed within a hundred miles since she was nuclear armed and fueled. But he and a couple of the crew? Indeed, there was nothing wrong with that, he thought. And Seaview would be harbored near Seoul, which was beyond the limitation, in case she was needed.**

**Harry looked up and saw Chip gazing at him curiously. His thoughts must have been very apparent; or at least his emotions had been. "Just a notion. I’ll fill you in later, Chip, if there is anything to fill in." And he strode toward the radio shack. Bending down, he murmured, "Secure line to the White House, Sparks. And then pipe it through to my cabin."**

**"Aye, aye, sir."**

**"And when I’m through with that one, get the Institute for me. Angie preferably."**

**"Aye, sir," Sparks said, his eyes showing curiosity, but not asking anything. The man knew when the OOM had an idea or a plan, Harry thought in slight amusement and he was usually right.**

**With a purposeful stride, Nelson climbed up the stairs and headed to his cabin. By the time he got there, Sparks had been able to scare up someone at the White House. Now came the hard part.**


	7. Chapter 7

December 16th, 1000 hours UTC+8

**Neera looked out over the almost park sized back yard and sighed. It had been a week and while she was happy to be home, happy that things were normal and quiet again, she continued to wonder where Andjen was; if he had gotten to his home. When asked what had happened for that four days during the storms, she had said very little. They had not pushed her, especially her parents. Indeed, Papa hadn’t been home more than to make sure she was all right when she had first come home. Since then he had been back in his office. She missed him. She truly wanted to tell him about Andjen and how he had saved Grandper. And her, too, Neera realized. But Grandper said not to say anything for a few days. It had been more than a few days.**

**Of course, there had been Uncle Wu-jin’s funeral. She couldn’t say anything or even think about anything else in the days before it. All the aunts, uncles and cousins had pet, coo’ed and cried over her, telling her how fortunate she was to have survived up on the mountain. They told her what a remarkable girl she was to have taken care of her sick grandfather. They praised her endlessly, patted her on the head, told Mama and Papa what a wonderful daughter she was. She wanted to tell them about her andjen, whoever he was and that it was he who had saved them. But she held her tongue and just let them talk and talk.**

**Then they would talk about how unfortunate it was about Uncle Wu-jin and their eyes would fill with tears. They would turn away, trying to keep her from seeing, but she knew what they were saying. Of course, she was sad about Uncle Wu-jin and wished that he hadn’t died, but it irritated her how they all acted around her. Like she was still a baby. She wasn’t. Then there was the actual funeral. Even television people had been there, talking about what a hero he had been. The funeral had been sad, but her Papa had said nice things about him and so had Mama’s other brother, Uncle Shonin. There had been so many people there, more than she could count. They kept saying something about an awful enemy spy killing her uncle. All the talking, all the crying. It had been terrible and had almost made her sick. Kroshna had brought her home early and she hadn’t been sorry. But that was two days ago, couldn’t she tell Mama now? Or Papa?**

**With another sigh, she left her bedroom and wandered down the hall. This had once been belonged to a king, but that was many years ago and now it was her home. Sometimes she felt she could get lost in it. So many of the rooms were huge for when her papa and mama had parties, or when Papa had big meetings. There were rooms for some of the people who took care of them—her teacher, their cook, the gardener. Some of the rooms were just empty and locked.**

**She felt lonely back here. There were times she wished she was back in Grandper’s little cabin listening to his and Andjen’s stories. Some of what he said had sounded so fun. How his father would put him on his shoulders to put a star on top of a very large Christmas tree, how he and his friends would play ice hockey on a frozen pond. Then there was the story of how a friend of his named Chip had dared him to climb up a flagpole just before Christmas one year and put a Santa hat on top, then had dared him to paint a face under the hat. She had laughed at that one. Andjen said he was in college that time and most of his friends liked to play silly things like that. He had talked about the ocean and how beautiful it was, about putting a Christmas tree on a boat and everyone putting on an ornament they had made.**

**"Are you all right, Neera, dear?" Mama asked.**

**Neera started. She had been thinking so hard she hadn’t heard any footsteps echoing in the big hall. "Yes, I’m fine, Mama." She turned to her mother. "Can I go see Grandper today? I mean, surely he’s well enough by now." To herself, she thought he had been well enough before, but she had been ignored during the time of the funeral. Everyone had been too busy.**

**"I’ll check and see if the doctors will allow it. If they say yes, we will go to the hospital and visit."**

**"And when is Papa going to come home?"**

**Mama sighed this time. "Neera, darling. Papa is very busy. There are so many things going on. Things with the court, his upcoming trip."**

**"Will he see the ocean when he goes on his trip?" she asked, still thinking about Andjen’s stories about the ocean. He had told her many during the first long day after he had come.**

**"Why yes, he will," Mama replied. "Why do you ask?"**

**"I want to go, too. I have never seen the ocean and I want to see if it’s as pretty as An…. As pretty as people say."**

**"I doubt he’ll let you go with him. These trips aren’t for a little girl like you, dear."**

**Neera felt like stomping her foot, but knew it wouldn’t help, not with Mama and certainly not with Papa. "You go with him," was all she said in reply.**

**"Yes, because I am his wife. I am expected to go. But with you it’s different," she tried to explain.**

**"How?"**

**Mama sighed again. Seemed to Neera that they were all sighing today. "I’ll let your father explain that to you. Personally I would enjoy you coming, but there are things that make that difficult."**

**And Neera knew that was that. She would make sure to ask Papa when he finally came home, because by then, Mama would most likely forget. "Do you believe in angels?"**

**Her mother looked startled. "What?"**

**"Angels, Mama. Do you believe in them? Grandper does."**

**"Well, I really don’t know, Neera." She smiled. "Have you seen one?"**

**"Kind of," Neera replied vaguely.**

**"When was that?" Mama asked, looking a bit concerned. "Up at the cabin?"**

**Neera simply shrugged. "I’m worried about Grandper." That was a sure fire way to get off a subject she didn’t want to talk about anymore. She needed to talk to Grandper.**

**"I’ll check and then we’ll decide when to go. Right now, you need to go to back to your class and when you’re finished, I’ll be able to tell you more about your grandfather."**

**Neera had to be satisfied with that. She walked down the long hallway to the room that had been set up as her classroom. It made her think of the story Andjen had told her about when he went to school and she wondered what it would be like if she could go to school with lots of other boys and girls.**

December 16th, 1900 hours, UTC+8

**Kocerin sighed and twisted the end of one of his mustaches. It was late, he’d not been home in time to tuck his daughter into bed in six days and do more than kiss his wife before collapsing into bed himself. There had been Wu-jin’s funeral, all the attendant headaches relevant to the upcoming trip, and now there were still more papers to sign. He glanced over them and noted the one that set the date for the American’s trial. December eighteenth. He nodded and signed it, adding a paper noting the need for a lawyer to be assigned to him—and for the lawyer to talk to Crane before the trial. That was something very important to the Americans. It wouldn’t make a difference either way in the outcome, but at least no one could say he wasn’t attentive to the spy’s rights.**

**Rights! He snorted. What rights? The intercom buzzed and he flipped the receive switch. "Yes?"**

**"Your wife, Mr. President," came the voice of his secretary, Ahneen.**

**Ah, that was a most welcome reprieve, Kocerin thought. He picked up the phone without even answering Ahneen. "My beloved, it is wonderful hearing your voice!" he boomed into the phone. "How are you and Neera doing?"**

**"Ah, it would be much better if you could come home and hear us in person," she said without any rancor.**

**"I hope to be home shortly. I have to read the report on the American and then I’ll be coming. It will be so good to be home before midnight," he said with a lusty sigh.**

**"Indeed it will. If you could come sooner that would be much better. Neera would very much like you to tuck her in tonight. She’s been concerned about your father and they won’t let us come to see him until tomorrow." Vidraan Kocerin paused and then continued. "She has asked me about angels, saying that she has seen one. Kroshna said something about her mentioning an angel helping them at the cabin, but she didn’t elaborate. I think you need to talk to her and Nicoli about what happened up there. Did your father’s doctors tell you anything?"**

**"No, I have not had a chance to talk to them."**

**"The doctors have said that there was no possible way for Neera to have helped your father and accomplished all the other things that were done up there."**

**"Could Wu-jin have done some of that before he left?" Kocerin interjected.**

**"I have no idea, Nirhan. She has been very cagey about that time up there. I had thought it might have to do with your father’s injury, the storm and Wu-jin leaving the way he had and his subsequent death. But now, I’m not so sure."**

**Kocerin realized that he had left a great deal undone and most of that in his own house. He hadn’t doubted Crane’s role in the death of his brother-in-law, but had not thought about just how his daughter and father had survived up there for that four days. And with Father so badly injured. Could it be? No! Then he dismissed the thought. He would talk to Neera first. He called Ahneen into his office to give her the signed documents for the American’s trial. If he knew his secretary, someone from the state lawyers office would be called before another half hour had passed.**

**Kocerin looked at the mound of paperwork and began plowing through it. An hour later, he paused. Neera first. Muttering an expletive, he filed it all in his to do drawer and locked it. Gathering up the reports about the American, Kocerin marched out of his office. Ahneen looked up in surprise. "I’m going home," was all he said.**

**"A lawyer has been assigned to the American’s defense," she told him. It was as he had thought. He nodded his thanks to her and wished her a good night.**

December 16th, 2000 hours, UTC+8

**Lee Crane had finished his dinner over two hours ago and was now doing push-ups on the cold floor. Not much had varied the past few days. How many days had it really been? He had tried to keep track, but it was hard when you couldn’t even see marks on the wall. A bit of mental math and Lee figured it had been close to a week if not more.**

**The trick was counting the meals. Meals were twice a day with a jug of water. He had found out the first day that he had to shove out the old containers before they would give him the new ones. It had been a very quick finish of the last of the morning’s water before he gave them back the thermos-sized container. Dinner had a bit more substance with some chunks of undecipherable meat in a kind of greasy broth. There were some veggies, in there. He could tell because the meat was stringy and tough. Not that the vegetables were much better in their texture. But like the concoction of the morning, it did assuage his hunger a bit, even if occasionally it made him a bit queasy.**

**They had shoved in a blanket that first day in his cell and although it was of the same course material as his clothing, he was grateful for the warmth it provided. During the long dark hours between meals, he alternated exercise with light sleep and that with thinking. At times his thoughts were military exercises, remembering theoretical tactics from his classes at the academy. He wove those exercises into some of his real adventures, trying to keep his mind sharp with alternate scenarios. Sometime he would digress into memories, mainly of his boyhood. There were dark times when he would simply fall, or allow himself to fall into moods of misery and depression, wondering how long he would be in this hellhole and how long he would be able to keep his sanity. He had been imprisoned before, even been more harshly treated, but never before had Crane felt that there was no escape like he did now. Sometimes he would feel deep anger—at ONI, at Admiral Johnson, definitely at himself and finally at Neera and her grandfather. Then he’d feel guilty for blaming the injured man and his granddaughter. Still in all, Lee wished there had been another way to take care of them and still get out. He’d been too complacent, too arrogant in his own abilities. Finally, Crane would jerk himself out of his pity party and begin a mental game of chess with himself.**

**Lee slowly rose to his feet. He had gotten up too fast one time and in the dark bashed his head against the bottom of the metal rack. After he had totally regained his senses, he was much more careful whenever he moved around the tiny cell. Lee sat down on his bunk, leaning against the wall, his ear pressed tight to the blocks of concrete. It was almost like a game, trying to hear something, anything beyond the confines of his stygian world. He had gotten very good at it. Of course, having served on a vessel where metal carried sound in subtle as well as not so subtle ways, he had an advantage. It was much harder with concrete, but occasionally he’d hear heavy footsteps, screams and shouts, slight bangings, which he associated with a similar sound in his youth—that of heated water going through pipes leading to radiators. Each time he heard the sound, Crane wished heartily for some radiator heat to his cell. He wondered if he’d ever be warm again.**

December 16th, 0700 hours, PST

**Kowalski, with Patterson right behind him, approached the XO. Most of the men had already left for several days’ liberty. Kowalski and Patterson had not changed out of their jumpsuits.**

**Morton noted that immediately. "Why haven’t you headed out?"**

**"Uh, sir, we have a question."**

**Morton suspected he knew what it was. "And that is?"**

**"Why are we just sitting on our sixes doing nothing? Why aren’t we heading east to try to get the skipper out?"**

**Chip sighed. "Ski, Pat, you both know that would not only be futile now, but it would be considered an act of hostility that could trigger a war. You know how the Republic has tried to start something in the past."**

**"Yes, sir," Patterson spoke up. "But it almost seems . . . seems, well, it almost seems obscene for us to sit here all comfortable when Captain Crane is in that hole."**

**Kowalski nodded his head in agreement. "I don’t think I could enjoy my liberty, sir."**

**Chip nodded knowingly. "In other words you feel guilty that you’re able to do what you please, while the captain is a captive."**

**"Yes, sir," Kowalski replied.**

**"As much as I hate to say it, Lee Crane knew what he was doing, what could happen." He didn’t say anything for a moment and the horror of his next thought took hold. "And what could happen is that he could very well never get out of that prison alive."**

**The two men looked horror stricken. "You don’t mean that, do you, Mr. Morton?"**

**"I would dearly love to say that I was jerking your chain, but I can’t," Chip continued somberly. "The admiral is in Washington trying to see what diplomatic avenues can be taken." He studied the two men carefully. "I do know this—when the admiral tells us to be ready to leave, we’ll leave. And if anyone can figure out a way to get the skipper out, he will. So the best thing would be to get the hell off the boat, get some rest and be ready to come back anytime we’re called."**

**"Thank you, sir," Patterson said.**

**"Aye, aye, sir," Kowalski said at the same time.**

**Morton watched the two men depart and wondered at his blunt words about Lee’s chances. A chill went up and down his spine. He knew the reputation of that prison. He also knew the reputation of the Republic. That British spy. When was that? Last January, he believed. Would they really do that with Lee? Chip seriously hoped not, but would life in that place be better? Not really, he thought. The admiral was in Washington. Hopefully, he would be able to come up with something. Chip sighed and returned to his reports.**

December 16th, 2130 hours, UTC+8

**Tomarin Kovitch gazed at the dispatch in dismay. He had received orders that made him the defense counsel for the American spy. What a good way to become a prosperous lawyer, he thought sarcastically.**


	8. Chapter 8

December 17th, 0300 hours, UTC-8

**Crane awoke from his doze, as he did often during the night, to the sound of soft scratching and pattering. He knew what it was and repressed a shiver. Opening his eyes, even though he knew he wouldn’t see anything, he followed the progress of the rodent with his ears instead. The rat crept across the concrete floor, sniffed and lightly pawed at the dinner bucket. Lee waited, trying to keep his breathing even, his limbs relaxed. He was ready this time.**

**The first night the rat had awakened him—the third night here, he thought—Crane had been so tired that he had been fairly sound asleep. The blasted thing had awakened him when it had crawled over him as he lay curled up on the rack. He had jumped to his feet, stumbled in the dark, banged against the wall and tripped over his water container, spilling the little bit he had been saving. The next night he had heard it digging around in the bucket. An idea began forming in his head that he contemplated a great deal the next day. That time he had lain very quietly, even when it crawled up on the rack with him. Only when it sniffed his face, did Lee jerk and the rodent dashed back to the safety of its escape hatch. He had heard the horror tales and there was no way he was going to test their veracity. Still, Lee had lain there, wondering if it would return and what it would do next. For a brief second, he was insanely jealous of the creature that could come and go at will.**

**The following day, Crane experimented with the food container. His eyes had either become accustomed to the near total darkness, or they had more light in the corridor because he was now able to see vague shapes during the day. He continued to work with the container, laying it in odd positions, trying to make it stay upright. Not knowing exactly how long his efforts took him, it nevertheless occupied his mind and body for some time. In the hours before supper, he tried to pull a string from the bottom of his blanket. He finally managed to pry loose several shorter ones, which he knotted together into a longer string. He threaded one end though a hole near the top of the bucket, presumably where a handle had been, and set it upside down, leaning slightly against the wall. Curling up on his bunk, the other end of the string in his hand, Lee tried to figure how the rat had explored, how long it would take to go from one part of the cell to another and when it might check out the bucket.**

**After a few experiments, Lee untied the string and hid it back under his blanket. After he had eaten his bland and slightly cloying meal, Lee had felt around the bucket to find the hole in that one. He threaded the string and lay in wait. When it finally came, the rat had knocked the bucket on its side during its explorations and it had scurried off. Despite that, Crane had continued to wait, letting the creature carefully sneak back some time later and check out the interior of the fallen container. Finally it had left and he had untied the string for another try tonight. What he was going to do with the creature when he caught it, he didn’t have a clue. Throughout the day, that was what he had puzzled out most in his mind—some way to keep the rat in the bucket after he had captured it.**

**As his thoughts continued in this direction, Crane laughed softly at the absurdity of what he was doing. But it was action, no matter that it was of no consequence. It was so much better than simply scratching his itchy beard. It was infinitely better than trying to figure the future. The future didn’t count, he had decided. It simply didn’t exist. To consider the future, Lee figured, would be to plunge down into despair. He was determined not to do that at any cost.**

**So tonight after he had eaten, leaving a little more of the concoction coating the sides of the bucket than usual, Crane had set his trap, and lain in wait. To stay awake, he did some mental math, figured it was only about a week until Christmas. He remembered how his mother always managed to find an Advent calendar for him the month before Christmas. It had been something she had learned about from an Austrian friend. Lee had been delighted with them in his boyhood. Each day he would open a little window and take out the chocolate piece. She had continued the custom after he had received his captaincy of _Devil Fish_. She had continued to ship them to him after his assignment on _Seaview. _Okay, he thought, he would do Advent carols the week before Christmas.**

**He began with "Jingle Bells," worked through "Away in a Manger" and several other songs he knew. Crane had never considered himself to have a good singing voice, but unlike his father, he could at least carry a tune in a bucket. That reminded him to check his hold on the string. His mother had had a very pleasant alto voice and used to sing along with tunes on the radio, but none of them could read music. Lee mainly sang the melody and would sing under duress, or in the shower when he was in his apartment. On the few occasions he had been coerced into singing with a group, mainly when he had been growing up, he had simply memorized the part he had been given. So it was with pleasure that he was able to not only remember the words to most of the carols, but also some of the parts, mainly tenor, but occasionally bass.**

**After awhile, he settled down and waited. And waited and waited. He mentally took the _Seaview_ through a variety of maneuvers, took the Flying Sub up in high altitude tests, and dived her beneath the waves. He worked complicated mathematical problems in his head. What had once been the bane of his classroom experience came easier. He did the same with some of the admiral’s scientific experiments. That had him remembering chemistry class and he started mentally listing elements in the periodic table, starting with hydrogen and working his way through as many as he could remember. Each time he did so, he remembered a few more.**

**Finally he dozed, but woke up immediately when he heard the almost silent footfalls of the rat. It pattered softly across the floor, stopped, then moved forward again. He heard it near the bucket, which was against the wall and propped, barely, by the edge of the water container. He could hear it moving inside the bucket. A little more, just a couple of minutes. Let it get complacent, engrossed in its meal. A few more seconds. It was thoroughly enjoying its meal. Now!**

**With a jerk, Crane pulled the string and then rocketed out of the rack. He had practiced that during the day, too. Before the rodent could push out from under the bucket, Lee had pinned it to the ground. He heard it squeaking and scrabbling around inside the bucket, but he wasn’t going to let it go. Some night when he would be tired enough; it would be hungry enough and then it would go for him. There was no way he was going to let that happen. The lice and other vermin had enough fun with him. There was nothing he could do about that. But the rat? There had never been a doubt in his mind that eventually he would catch it.**

**Reaching over with one hand, Lee grabbed his blanket. He continued to hold down the bucket, but when he had the blanket in the right position, he lifted the bucket slightly and shoved part of it in, then some more, effectively denying the rat its freedom. "Let’s see how well you get away now," he told it in triumph. He practically sat on the bucket throughout the night, listening with a cold and determined heart as it clawed at the bucket. When morning came, he turned the bucket over, keeping the blanket well over the top. There was no movement from inside. Still he kept the blanket secure; wadded up with even more pressure.**

**He lamented the loss of his blanket, because he had no illusions about the guards giving it back. On the other hand, if they wanted to keep their American prisoner alive for some reason or another, they would give him another one. Either way, he had done something constructive. It wasn’t a better mousetrap, but it had worked. It was the only thing that had worked in the week or so that he’d been here. And he wasn’t going to take the chance that the rat was dead. They were tenacious and could be vicious creatures, so he left the blanket wadded and stuffed on top of the bucket.**

December 17th, 1000 hours, UTC+8

**Tomarin Kovitch sat in the prison’s interview room, waiting for them to bring in his client. He mentally cringed at reference to the American spy as his client. Such an assignment certainly was no feather in his cap. It was always the green lawyers who got such odious assignments, too. He sighed. It was his luck that he had just joined his first law cooperative. Oh, well, he thought as he heard the outer door open and two guards escorting, none too gently, the American.**

**He almost started. This was supposed to be an American Navy man of rank? The man was bearded, filthy and totally unkempt. He blinked and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Then again, Kovitch thought, that was only as it should be. The note on the file said that he’d been kept in total solitary confinement in one of the highest security cells, to prevent any attempts at suicide or escape, and in keeping with his crimes. Alleged crimes—not that Kovitch doubted any of them. He had skimmed through the file that had arrived at his apartment early this morning. This wasn’t the American’s first time in the Republic. Much of this man’s past dealings with his countrymen had resulted in either embarrassment or worse, loss of property and life. Then there was the murder of the Security undersecretary, Wu-jin. Kovitch continued reading the file even as the prisoner was shoved into a chair. The jangle of the manacles was in jarring contrast to the relative silence of the room, but he ignored it the best that he could.**

**Kovitch finally looked up to see the spy…. This was Captain Lee Crane, he reminded himself. Despite the fact that this was a pretty open and shut case, he would have to remember that a client had a name despite the crime. Regardless, the spy was studying him as though he, Kovitch was the one on trial. He drew in a deep breath and then began in English. "Captain Lee Crane," he read from the first page. "Born in Rhode Island, United States. Commander in the United States Navy."**

**Just as he was about to continue, the American spoke. "Reserve."**

**Kovitch blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"**

**"I am Commander Lee B. Crane, United States Navy Reserve."**

**"What is the difference?"**

**"The difference is that I am not under direct jurisdiction of the United States Navy, but can be called into active duty at any time." There was no bluster, just a statement of fact—maybe a bit of pride—but no arrogance.**

**And it was disconcerting, but the man continued to study him. "I am Tomarin Kovitch, your legal counsel."**

**"I assumed as such."**

**"I will be representing you at your trial tomorrow. I wanted…."**

**"Tomorrow?" His surprise was brief, then Crane gave a brief smile. "Damn, don’t waste time, do you?"**

**Kovitch just shrugged. "Why? That is something that we seem to be able to do much more quickly than your country’s clogged and overburdened court system."**

**"Maybe, but when there is only one outcome and it’s pretty much decided beforehand, a trial wouldn’t take long," Crane stated matter-of-factly.**

**Kovitch only shook his head and wished that they had given this man a bath before he was brought in. "I will do all I can, but the charges are serious. Just the fact that you were in our country illegally is a serious enough crime."**

**"All right, tell me what the crimes are and perhaps we can discuss this so-called trial tomorrow."**

**Kovitch sighed. "I don’t think you realize the seriousness of your position."**

**Crane leaned forward a bit, felt the manacles shift and frowned. He regained his equanimity quickly. "I realize it all right, just don’t figure there’s much I can do about it."**

**"You also realize what the verdict is for almost any of these charges?" Kovitch asked, still feeling disconcerted by the man across from him.**

**"Sure, if the charges are what I think they are," Crane said quietly. "I’ll be wrung out for any secrets and then shot or hung."**

**Kovitch figured enough of the American’s idiomatic answer to understand what Crane was telling him. "If you knew what the consequences were, then why did you choose to be a spy against our people?"**

**"First and foremost, I am an American serviceman. I am committed to honorable service and duty to my country. I will serve where asked to and fulfill that duty with the utmost integrity and honor." Crane paused and then leaned back, as though understanding how his proximity to Kovitch affected him. "Now, could you please tell me what all these charges are?"**

**"Of course, Commander Crane," Kovitch replied. "You are charged with illegal entry into the People’s Republic. You are charged with espionage and you are charged with murder."**

**At that Crane started. "Whose murder?" he asked sharply.**

**"The murder of Shan Wu-jin, undersecretary of security."**

**"What? I didn’t murder Wu-jin. Never met him."**

**"Perhaps it might be good if you told me just what you did that six days you were in the People’s Republic."**

**Crane’s eyes hardened. "You know I can’t do that."**

**"Then how do I know you didn’t kill young Wu-jin?"**

**"Look, Mr. Kovitch. I didn’t see more than a few people the entire time I was in your country. I was holed up during the storm, like most everyone else in that part of the country. As to the rest, you know that I can’t tell you any of that."**

**"Even if it would save your life?"**

**"You making me a deal?"**

**"I know it would go easier for you if you would cooperate, Commander."**

**"Are you making me a deal?" Crane repeated.**

**"No, but I can’t even begin to help you if you don’t give me some information to go on."**

**"Mr. Kovitch, I don’t think you could help me if I told you every minute of every one of those six days," Crane shot back. "I do have a demand, however."**

**"You, a demand?" Kovitch almost laughed. How in the world could such a . . . person as this make demands? Then he saw the calm dignity in his client’s eyes. Kovitch suddenly realized that this wasn’t simply a filthy, uncouth, degenerate convict. This was a man who commanded, led men into battle and fought without flinching. Here was someone who carried his dignity inside, not in his outward appearance. How did he know this, Kovitch asked himself? He didn’t—only that it was so. So he would play along and see what came. "All right, tell me what you would like and I will see what I can do."**

**"I will not appear in court like this. Granted, I would be going too far to demand a Navy uniform, but I will not go into any court, kangaroo or not, without the opportunity to clean up and look somewhat presentable." He leaned forward again. "No matter what I am accused of, I am a human being and demand to be treated, at least in court, with some shred of human decency."**

**Kovitch said nothing for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and began, "I will do what I can, Commander, but in light of your crimes, I am not sure how far I can go with your request." Actually, he thought he could grant the entirety of Crane’s demand, but he wasn’t going to give in too easily. He stalled by looking at the file again. Kovitch hadn’t noticed the quickly scrawled note at the end. He sat up and read it again. Then he looked up at the American who was still scrutinizing him. "It says you have been unruly and disrespectful of the staff here."**

**"When? At the beginning of my internment? I couldn’t help that. I was sick as hell and hungry, thirsty and trying to get over that gas they used on me in the mountains."**

**"No, I mean this morning."**

**"This morning?" Then Crane began laughing. "You talking about the rat?"**

**"Yes," Kovitch said quietly. Then his curiosity got the better of him. "They don’t have details of the incident. Could you supply them?"**

**"What in blue blazes was I supposed to do with the thing? It was eating my food, probably would have taken a chunk out of me eventually. I wasn’t going to let that happen. So I figured a way to trap it using the dinner bucket and my blanket. When they retrieved the bucket this morning and pulled the blanket from the top, the rat apparently surprised them. Guess it was still alive and scared the hell out of them when it took off. It was hard to hear from the cell so I may be wrong in my assessment."**

**Unable to stop himself, Kovitch chuckled at the picture the prisoner had presented him. Then with great effort he recovered.**

**Crane had paused. There was no smile on his face and he took a quick breath. "Mr. Kovitch, I have been consigned to a pitch dark, dank, five by seven room with a hole in the corner for a toilet and a metal rack for a bed. Do you think I was going to magnanimously share it with a scavenging rat?" His eyes were sparking with previously pent up anger.**

**Kovitch couldn’t help it, there was something about this man that commanded respect. No wonder he had been one of the youngest submarine commanders in the United States Naval history as he had read in the report. He found himself drawn to the American and had to jerk himself out of that line of thought.**

**Crane continued, his voice softer, drained of anger, only tired. "And think about it, that damned rat had freedom that I can only dream about now."**


	9. Chapter 9

December 17th, 1000 hours, UTC+8

**Neera was irritated that she had missed her papa yet again, but could take comfort in the fact that Grandper was coming to live in the house with them. At least he was until his leg fully healed. Mama had explained that the doctor had had to operate on the leg because it had some infection that had gone much too far in his leg to just put medicine on it.**

**She knew she should be in her classes, but she had asked to go to the bathroom and before she went back, she was going to see Grandper and make sure he was all right. Sneaking down the stairs, she then crept along the hallway that led to the guest rooms. Neera really had wished that her grandfather could have slept in one of the rooms near hers, but Mama had explained that Grandper needed to be downstairs where he wouldn’t have to climb down stairs to go to the dining room or places like that. So here she was, sneaking like a little thief along the more shadowy edges of the hallway. Soon she was at Grandper’s door and she put her ear to the thick wood, trying to listen to what might be coming from inside.**

**She only heard the muted sounds of the television, so Neera turned the knob and slipped inside. The room wasn’t bright, but it wasn’t dark either, so when he heard the door squeak, Grandper turned his head and saw her.**

**"Neera! How good it is to see you again."**

**She ran to his bedside. He turned the game show off. "Are you all right, Grandper?"**

**"Yes, I will be fine, my child. The doctors had to work on my leg some more, but they say I will be up and around in only a few weeks," Grandper told her. Then he looked at the clock. "Shouldn’t you be in your lessons? Does your teacher know you are here?"**

**Neera gave a sly smile. "I said I had to go to the bathroom."**

**Grandper chuckled and then sobered quickly. "So, I heard that Uncle Wu-jin’s funeral was hard."**

**"It was sad, Grandper. And everyone kept telling how some terrible spy kind of person killed him. Why would someone want to do that? Uncle Wu-jin was only trying to get help for us. He wasn’t a bad man."**

**Grandper’s face showed something she wasn’t sure about. It looked a little like the way he had looked in the cabin before Andjen came. "No your uncle wasn’t. What else did they say?"**

**"Nothing, really. Everyone usually stopped talking when they knew I was listening. And when I asked questions, they just said I was too young to understand." She gave a disgusted snort. "I know a lot more than they think I do."**

**"I know you do, my little one," Grandper replied. "Have you told your father about Andjen yet?"**

**She shook her head. "You said not to and I didn’t want to say anything until I had talked to you. But then they wouldn’t let me see you in the hospital." Neera cocked her head to one side and studied her grandfather. "Did you?"**

**He also shook his head. "I didn’t want to talk to anyone until I had spoken to your father." He smiled softly. "It’s been well over a week."**

**"Do you think Andjen made it to his home?" she asked. "Do you think he’s with his family?"**

**Grandper looked thoughtful. "You father didn’t come to see me except maybe a couple of times and that only in the beginning, right after we were found."**

**"I haven’t seen him, too. Mama said he was busy with the trip they’re going on, a trial and other things." She paused and thought she should tell Grandper about how she almost told her mother. "I’m sorry, but I said something to Mother about seeing an angel. I almost told her about Andjen. But I didn’t say anything after that."**

**"What trial?" Grandper looked anxious. He ignored her other comment.**

**"I don’t know. Something important, but they won’t talk to me about that, either."**

**"Neera, to answer your question that you asked before…. No, I don’t think Andjen made it home."**

**"Where is he?"**

**"Neera, I can’t really answer that, because I’m not sure. I only have guesses." He sat up farther in bed. "I think you need to explain to your mother what you were talking about. I know the doctors told her that you couldn’t have done all the things to help me, so I know she’s wondering. Probably your Papa, too."**

**"All right, Grandper," Neera replied.**

**"Now I think you’d better get back to your lessons."**

**She nodded, climbed up on the bed to give him a kiss and then walked out of the room. Neera had felt Grandper’s fear and now she wondered what he was keeping from her.**

December 17th, 1630 hours, UTC+8

**Kocerin perused the lawyer’s notes, which included the prisoner’s request. They had been extensive and the president was amazed at the detail in young Kovitch’s notes. The man must have the ability to recall with perfect clarity, he thought. That could be a useful commodity to him. He would find out when he listened to the tape of the interview. As it was, Kocerin was planning on being at the trial, if no other way then closed circuit from another part of the building.**

**As expected, Crane would not divulge his activities for the six plus days he was in the country. However, the people’s president was struck by the comment that Crane’s lawyer had written. "First and foremost, I am an American serviceman. I am committed to honorable service and duty to my country. I will serve where asked to and fulfill that duty with the utmost integrity and honor.’ Kocerin had wanted to paint the picture of a villainous and depraved individual, out to wreak the most havoc or destroy the country he, as president, had sworn fidelity to. He wanted to categorize the American people as a whole as depraved, greedy, decadent people. Kovitch had added his personal notes and though he had been a bit reticent and spare in his assessments, Kocerin could see that the lawyer had been somewhat favorably impressed.**

**Kocerin thought back to Crane’s statement and remembered his own service in the People’s Army. He had led men as a very young lieutenant, fought alongside his men, defended the borders of his country against those who would attack his people. He still would, he thought fiercely. Kocerin also remembered his forays for the Intelligence Committee into their neighbor’s territory. He rose far and fast into the ranks of the military and then turned his attentions to serving in the Peoples’ ruling councils. He had risen fast there, too, despite his dissatisfaction against the former leadership. With a smile, Kocerin remembered his father’s advice. Speak when it will do the most good and keep quiet every other time. He had followed that advice and found himself, a year ago, the front-runner in the bid for a new president.**

**  
Now he was the youngest citizen to have ever been elected to that post. Perhaps the voters had been as tired of war and futile aggression as he had been. Maybe it was just because he was a younger member and therefore an easier scapegoat if things didn’t improve by more sedate and diplomatic means. Shrugging, Kocerin continued his reading, noting that the only definitive statement that Crane had given was that he had not killed his brother in law and had not even met him. Frowning, the president wondered just what the American had done, where he had holed up and what information he had come into the Republic to get. The best intelligence that could be had was that it was a simple foray for intelligence, just like the two or three missions he had carried out as a young man.**

**But why someone like Crane? Unless it was to verify the existence of the secret sub base where a vessel comparable to the _Seaview_ was being constructed. Like that other submarine, this one was presumably being constructed for research of the ocean near their borders, but it also would have the ability to carry out offensive maneuvers if it became necessary. The yet unnamed vessel was smaller than _Seaview_, but by all reckoning it would have most of the same abilities insofar as speed, maneuverability and capability were concerned. How much had he learned and if Crane had been here to verify, then apparently the Americans were already at least somewhat aware of what they were doing. Again, he frowned. Nothing had been found on Crane—no microfilm, pictures, tapes, nothing. And of course, the man wasn’t talking.**

**He sighed and read until he finished the report. The trial was set for mid morning tomorrow and he planned on being there. Kocerin wrote a quick memo, allowing all of Crane’s demands. The young lawyer felt it would be a good point when the president went to the summit in five days. It would make more points with the American president than if the American was tried in his present filthy condition. Kocerin felt that Crane should be allowed to appear at his trial with a reasonable amount of decorum all along. With a deep intake of breath, the president stretched and then got up. He would re-read this at home, as well as to listen to the recording, but this day, he was going home earlier. Handing his note to the secretary to deliver, he left, his ever-present bodyguards escorting him through the private halls, into his private transportation and into his private residence.**

**Once inside, the two men stayed just inside the entrance and Kocerin continued through the voluminous entrance hall to greet his family. He didn’t have to go far. Neera rocketed from the sitting room and threw herself into his arms. She covered him with kisses just as he had done when she and his father had been brought down from the mountain where they had been stranded all that time a more than a week ago. "Ah, my darling, I haven’t been gone that long!" he boomed.**

**"Yes, you have, Papa," she declared, planting another kiss on his cheek and burying her head in his neck.**

**His wife stood in the doorway, making motions with her hands. Finally as Neera rested in his arms, he got the drift of it and mouthed his own response. ‘Talk to her about angels?’ Vidraan nodded and he gave a slight nod of his own to show that he understood.**

**"Ah, my sweet, will you let me go long enough to let me take my coat off?" he asked, laughing.**

**"No, Papa!" she responded, still hugging him fiercely.**

**He carried her into the sitting room where he pried her off and placed her on the small couch. Then he quickly took off his coat and draped it over her. "Ah, that is what you get for harassing your poor father."**

**She giggled from under the heavy garment and then popped her head out, a large, endearing grin on her face.**

**"Dinner, then we’ll sit and I’ll read you stories and you can tell me what’s been going on in your life lately," he told her.**

**She nodded vigorously, jumping from the couch like a coiled spring and dancing around the room with the energy only the very young can possess. Kocerin gazed at her with unadulterated adoration. Neera had been long in coming and that made her even more precious. He beckoned to her. "Come, my princess, let me escort you to the dinner table."**

**She had to reach and could only put her hand up around his arm, but he also beckoned to his wife and together they all went into the dining room where a hot meal, as well as Grandper awaited them.**

**"Ah, Father, I’m so glad to see you well enough to join us for dinner," Kocerin boomed.**

**His father shifted in the wheel chair and muttered. "It will be better when I can walk in. First it was Andjen and then the doctors and then Vidraan, following their orders, telling me not to walk on my injured leg."**

_  
_

**Angel?** ** "Who did you say, Father? What angel?" Kocerin looked from his daughter to his father to his wife. The latter just shrugged. "Father, Neera, I think it’s time you told me just what happened up there in that cabin."**

**"You know that when the storm first began," Nicoli began. "Wu-jin decided to go down the mountain for supplies. He didn’t think it would be as bad as he had been told on the radio, but if we were up there for more than a couple of days, the supplies would be seriously low." Kocerin nodded. "Then shortly after he left the electricity went out and with it our heat. After a while, I decided that arthritis or not, I had to cut some wood."**

**"That was when the ax slipped and almost chopped your foot off."**

**"Yes. With Neera’s help I was able to bind the wound tight enough so that the bleeding finally slowed. After that I don’t know much of what happened until much later." He looked toward Neera.**

**"Grandper got worse and worse, Papa. He was screaming in pain when he was awake and still making noises even when he was asleep. Oh, Papa, Mama, I didn’t know what to do, but knew that Grandmer had told me that whenever I was in trouble, I could call on the Holy Trinity and one of them would send help." She looked at her Papa as though wondering what he would think.**

**Kocerin refrained from making any comment and motioned her to continue. All he could think about was the stress and horrible anxiety this situation had to have had on his precious little girl.**

**"Before I became too ill to even know what was going on, Neera was very level-headed and calm," Nicoli said as though reading his son’s mind. "I am very proud of her."**

**"As am I," Kocerin said. "What happened next, my child?"**

**"Then he came." She looked at her grandfather.**

**"Who came?"**

**"Andjen."**

**"Andjen—an angel came?"**

**"Well, no, not really, Papa, but I had asked God to send an angel to help us. Remember, Grandper," she said, turning to Nicoli. "That Grandmer said that angels would watch over us?" The old man nodded. Neera turned back to her father. "So at first I thought him an angel. He took care of Grandper and me. He cut the wood and built the fire. He cooked for us and changed Grandper’s bandages. He told me about Christmas and about when he was growing up." She giggled abruptly and Kocerin was puzzled. "Did you ever climb a flagpole when you were in college, Papa?"**

**Kocerin gazed at his daughter in total bewilderment. "Flagpole? I should say not. Why would I want to climb a flag pole when you can raise a flag up and down with a rope?"**

**Neera smiled. "Andjen didn’t say he climbed it for a flag. He said his friend dared him to put a Santa Claus hat on top at Christmas."**

**"Oh." He still wondered, but didn’t want to ask Neera at the moment. "Go on with your story. What else did this Andjen do?"**

**Neera nodded. "When Grandper was so sick, Andjen kept saying that he would be all right and he was."**

**"Why did you call him Andjen?" Nirhan Kocerin asked.**

**"He said that was as good a name as any. I think he didn’t want to tell me his name. I think he might have been in trouble or something."**

**Kocerin nodded, figuring that was most likely the reason. "Or something."**

**"Papa, was it wrong to not tell you?"**

**"That is my fault, son," Nicoli spoke up. "I told Neera to wait to say anything."**

**"Because you knew?" Kocerin prompted. With the telling of the events of the four days, much was beginning to make sense.**

**"I was almost certain he was an American and if so, he was probably in the country illegally. You can blame me, but after what he did for us, especially Neera, I wanted him to be able to get home safely." Nicoli studied his son carefully. "But he didn’t get away, did he?"**

**Kocerin sighed. "Before I answer that, I would like to have you both listen to something that I received today." He had brought his briefcase into the room with him, laying it close by. Despite the fact that the staff was checked, trustworthy and completely loyal, Kocerin still believed in vigilance. He moved his half finished plate out of the way and then lay the case on the table. Opening it up, he pulled out a small tape recorder. The cassette was already inside. "Listen and see if you recognize any of the voices." He played the taped conversation between Crane and Kovitch. He knew that Neera wouldn’t be able to understand what was being said, but his father would, knowing a fair amount of English.**

**"Andjen!" Neera cried out almost immediately. After a few minutes, Kocerin turned it off and looked at his father.**

**The older man nodded. "Yes, that is the man that Neera named Andjen. And I have to only assume that he is in Zinitch Prison," he said bluntly.**

**"Prison?" Neera gasped. "But why?"**

**"Because he is an American spy named Lee Crane," Kocerin said bluntly to his daughter.**

**"But he can’t be . . . I mean, he isn’t like the Americans or the spies that…."**

**"Not everyone is like what you see on television, Neera," Kocerin said. "But he is a spy."**

**"But Papa, Andjen couldn’t have killed Wu-jin like they said," Neera protested. "I know he couldn’t."**

**"I cannot say right now if he did or not, Neera. His trial is tomorrow morning. I suspect it will be a short one," Kocerin said softly, realizing that for the last week, he had been hoping for the conviction of the man who had saved his daughter and father.**


	10. Chapter 10

December 18th, 0800 hours, UTC+8

**Lee Crane was guardedly optimistic when he was escorted from his cell rather than having his food shoved in to him. He knew the trial was this morning, he was confident that Kovitch would follow through on his promise to try to get his demands granted. Whether or not they were had been something that worried him part of the night. Despite his bravado with the lawyer yesterday morning, he was worried about the whole trial ordeal. If he was lucky they would sentence him to death and he’d be quickly over this misery. If luck wasn’t with him, he’d have a life sentence. He shoved that thought far from his mind.**

**It took him a couple of minutes to get used to the bright light, although it was easier than it had been yesterday. Soon he was ready to see what this day was going to bring him. With a guard in front and one in back, Lee was escorted up the stairs and down long corridors. Finally they halted before a room and the lead guard pushed a button next to an intercom. The door opened and another guard beckoned them in. Crane smelled the lovely moist soapy scent of a shower room and he felt a lurch of excitement. To be clean for a change. It had been way too long. When was his last really good shower? It had been on board _Seaview _before this misbegotten mission. As though emphasizing the point, something bit him and he scratched under his arm.**

**"Here and don’t take too long," the guard told him, shoving a towel and a bar of soap into his arms.**

**"Thanks," Lee said, truly grateful. Then he thought of something, "Question."**

**"Yes?"**

**"Will there be a change of clothes? It really isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference if I can’t put on something clean." He may be pushing his luck, but it was worth a try.**

**"Towel around your middle will do until after you shave," the guard growled.**

**"Shave?" Crane couldn’t believe his ears.**

**"Was told that’s what you wanted," the guard said, frowning.**

**"Uh, yes, it was. Thanks." He really didn’t know what to say. Lee knew what he had asked for, but that he was going to get it all flabbergasted him.**

**"And don’t waste time or you’ll not get any breakfast," the guard added, pointing to a nearby shower stall. He then muttered something that Lee could only make out as an indictment against coddling prisoners. The other two guards waited by the outside door.**

**Crane didn’t waste time. Soon he was luxuriating in the lukewarm water, scrubbing himself with the bar of soap from the top of his head, down to his toes. Never again would he take something as simple as a shower for granted—ever! When he figured he had not only gotten as clean as he could but had indulged in a little extra, he turned off the taps and dried. He wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked in the end.**

**The shower room guard had been waiting near the stall and motioned Lee to a sink with a mirror, where a straight razor and a can of shaving cream awaited. "Now, I have been instructed to let you know that if you want to spare The People’s Republic Court the expense of a trial, you can feel free to use the razor, otherwise, don’t waste your time getting the beard off," the guard said tersely. "Again, if you do, you’ll miss breakfast."**

**Lee raised an eyebrow at the interesting instructions and proceeded to shave off his beard. He wasn’t used to this particular kind of razor, but still it didn’t take long. Part of the way through the procedure, he wondered at the opportunity as the guard had presented it, but decided that while he was still alive, there was still hope. Maybe he would regret that decision in the future, but for now…. For now, there was only hope.**

**When he was finished, he noticed a clean toothbrush and accompanying toothpaste. He pointed to them and the guard nodded sourly. Apparently, thought Crane as he brushed his teeth, this wasn’t normal treatment.**

**Finally, the guard handed him a change of clothes. Not only were the pants and shirt clean, they were a cut above the rough cloth of his previous garb. They appeared as though they would fit without worry of the pants falling down, too, he thought wryly. And the change of clothes included underwear this time. Lee felt as though he had just come out of Macy’s or Bon Marché. Quickly he dressed, throwing the towel into a nearby hamper indicated by the guard, who also pointed to a pair of slip-on sneakers.**

**"Hurry, they won’t keep your breakfast waiting forever," the guard grumbled, beckoning Lee to follow him to the door.**

**The previous two guards escorted him to a large room filled with long tables and benches. There were other prisoners eating their breakfast and they looked up briefly before quickly returning to their meals. The food appeared to be the same kind of stuff as what he had been given in his cell, but he had a spoon with which to eat it and warm tea to wash it down. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee, but no complaints would be forthcoming from him at this point. He could see his food, could eat it like a civilized human being and do it sitting on a seat at a table. Definitely no complaints for the moment.**

**Then he wondered why he was spared the ultimate humiliation that had been his lot the past ten days or so. Why the decent behavior? Then it came to him. Today was the trial, therefore today was the eighteenth, only four days before the summit began. This was part of a dog and pony show, Crane thought bitterly. If they took pains to make this all look fair and impartial and that he was being treated humanely, it would put up brownie points for the Republic’s president at the summit.**

**He only had a short time to eat before the guards were pushing him out of the cafeteria and down another corridor. In a room that was empty of any seats, windows or anything but a door on each end, Crane was ordered to hold his hands in front of him. Heavy handcuffs were placed on his wrists and manacles placed around his ankles. Show time, he thought.**

December 18th, 0945 hours, UTC+8

**Kovitch was nervously waiting in the prisoner’s room for Commander Crane to be brought in for trial. He had studied more of the evidence, notes and depositions that had become available to him after his first interview with the prisoner. Of most interest to him was the information that had come to him just this morning from the forensic specialists. They had been hesitant to give it to him, but after threatening to call the People’s Legal Committee they had finally relented. It certainly would have no bearing on the espionage charge, but would corroborate the only thing that the American had been willing to tell him.**

**Still, Kovitch didn’t enjoy having been saddled with this case. It certainly wouldn’t look good to have one’s first case a loss. What was even worse was the fact that he had been told that President Kocerin was planning on attending. Not known was whether the president was going to be here personally or watch on closed circuit monitor. Either way, Kovitch was not happy. What made it worse was the tiny nagging feeling of actually wanting to root for Crane. At fifteen minutes before ten, the prisoner was escorted into the room where Kovitch was waiting. He motioned for Crane to sit down.**

**"Let me quickly tell you what to expect and what is expected of you," Kovitch said without preamble. Crane nodded. "You will be escorted in by this guard," he began, pointing to the guard still waiting by the door, "Who will take you to a partitioned cubicle facing the judges. I will follow and be seated next to you. After the court is convened, the chief judge will read the charges and then ask you to tell them your plea for each one. You can answer in one of two ways…."**

**"Guilty or not guilty," Crane interjected.**

**"Yes. I would suggest that you enter not guilty for the charge of murder, since you claim you didn’t kill Shan Wu-jin."**

**Crane raised an eyebrow. "I was planning on it, despite the fact that it’s my word against the system’s."**

**"I got some more information that will help," Kovitch said tersely. "We don’t have much time, Commander."**

**"Sorry. Go on."**

**"I am suggesting you just plead guilty on the other counts and hope the judges are feeling merciful this time of year."**

**"Didn’t think Christmas was recognized by the state," Crane replied.**

**"Not really, but it’s not banned either," Kovitch stated. "Just don’t get insolent, surly or too emotional. And be polite. Do not interrupt the judges."**

**Crane smiled slightly. "Don’t make a spectacle of myself, is that it?"**

**"Um, yes. The President is going to be watching."**

**The American looked a bit startled. "Why? I know about that summit, but why would President Kocerin care to watch my trial?"**

**Kovitch shrugged. "Perhaps there is enough criticism or scrutiny that he wishes to see what happens for himself. I really don’t know, Commander, although, it seems from his notes that he is genuinely interested. Why, I don’t know."**

**"Okay," Crane said with a sigh. "What else should I know?"**

**"Not much, only that you can give your input if there is something you don’t understand or that you don’t agree with. Just do it with as much decorum as you can." Kovitch tried to think of anything he might have forgotten. He was amazed at how much information he had been told to give the prisoner and how much leeway the American was being allowed. "I have been speaking to you in English, but I understand that you are pretty fluent in our language, so you will not need me to interpret?"**

**"I will ask if there is a term or word I don’t understand."**

**"All right." Kovitch took a deep breath when he saw the signal light that told that the court was being convened. "It’s time, Commander Crane." He got up and Crane did the same, frowning at the manacles that impeded his progress.**

December 18th, 1000 hours, UTC+8

**When they entered the courtroom, Lee gazed around, studying his surroundings, the five judges sitting in a row, the middle one raised a bit higher then his four compatriots. The head judge he surmised. He looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t figure from where. There was a small gallery for spectators or witnesses, whatever, he guessed the case may be. He saw the prisoner’s box that Kovitch had told him about. It was partitioned about waist high with a table next to it for the defense lawyer, presumably. There was a similar table on the other side of the room, but with no cubicle. Lee was led to the prisoner’s box and told to enter. Carefully he stepped up into it mindful of the blasted manacles, and then continued to look around the room. He noticed that the judges were studying him. Without appearing to be gawking, Lee noted what else was going on in the room. He saw someone else who looked slightly familiar and realized that it was the U.S. envoy to the People’s Republic, only recently appointed and allowed into the country.**

**The man looked more uncomfortable than Crane felt, but that was his problem. He didn’t see Kocerin, but the president might be taking the safer road and watching on closed circuit television. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee saw Kovitch take his place next to him. He wondered about the Republic lawyer. For some reason, Lee got the impression that the man was actually doing more than lip service for him, not that it was going to do any good even if the man was blatantly on his side. And that was something else he wondered about—his own cool detachment from the entirety of these proceedings. It was as though he was watching someone else’s ordeal. It just didn’t seem real to him, at least not yet.**

**"The hearing will commence," intoned a younger man who had been seated near a back door. "The trial of Commander Lee B. Crane, accused by the People, present and able to answer the charges, has begun. The Honorable Zu-shin Li Mosovin, head arbitrator." Then the man sat down. Lee started. He recognized the name as one of the People’s staunchest war hawks and foe to anything American. No wonder the man had seemed familiar. The admiral had thwarted not a few of his schemes. Everyone had speculated just what had happened to Zu-shin after the last president had been forced to retire. The judge’s eyes bored into his during the bailiff’s short address. Lee gazed right back, determined not to let this setback show in his countenance.**

**The judge in the raised middle seat, General Zu-shin, began, "We are here to determine the innocence or guilt of Commander Lee Crane for a variety of charges." And he went on in what seemed to Lee to be a memorized formal speech about justice, rights, etcetera, etcetera. While listening and watching the judge, he also listened to any other noises going on around him.**

**Finally the introductory speech ended and the older man gazed pointedly at Crane. Commander Crane, you are hereby accused of murder against a citizen of the People’s Republic. What is your plea?"**

**"Not guilty."**

**Zu-shin hesitated and the dark eyes bored into his. "You are accused of illegal entrance and travel within the People’s Republic. What is your plea?"**

**"I’m here, General." With only a very brief pause, Lee continued. "Guilty by virtue of the physical evidence, not by virtue of any intent of violence upon any citizen…."**

**"Guilty," Zu-shin spat out. "You are accused of espionage with the full knowledge and consent of the United States government. What is your plea?"**

**Lee almost smiled at the way the words gave him a slight out. "Not guilty."**

**There was a murmuring among those in the courtroom and surprised looks on all the judges’ faces save Zu-shin. If anything, he looked rather pleased at Crane’s answers so far.**

**"The pleas have been entered. Only the first and third accusations will be addressed by questioning and presentation of evidence," Zu-shin said. Without giving the prosecutors a chance to say anything, the judge began with questions of his own. "Where were you between the dates of December 2nd and December 9th when you were captured by a contingent of the People’s Guard?"**

**"I was trying to make my way to the coast," Lee answered truthfully.**

**"With information you had collected while in the Vorshorin region."**

**Crane said nothing. It was true, although he wasn’t going to admit to it.**

**"Who was your contact?" Lee said nothing. "What information were you gathering?" Again, Lee found it better to simply say nothing. "Give me the names of those with whom you communicated. Your contacts, Commander." The badgering questions continued and Crane continued to stand at parade rest. Finally, the general sat back and took a deep breath. "You do realize, Crane, that we will eventually get the information we want. It would be so much easier for you to give the court the answers that we demand."**

**"Even if I had these earth shattering answers, General Zu-shin, do you think I would tell you? I don't have anything."**

**"Then why were you in our country illegally?" one of the lesser judges barked.**

**"I could give you a less than respectful answer, sir, but I have too much respect for the judicial system of any country, so I won't say anything."**

**"What evidence do you have that you did not kill Citizen Shan Wu-jin?" the judge immediately asked, changing his track.**

**"None, except my word as an officer and a gentleman," Crane answered evenly. "I never met…."**

**"I think I can shed some light on that, your honor," Kovitch interjected. He drew out a file from his briefcase and pulled out a picture. "This is a picture of the deceased man. If you look closely, you will see the powder burns not only on his head in the area of the bullet’s impact, but this picture," he pulled out another picture, this time one that had been taken under special lighting conditions. "Shows powder burns on his hand as well. Only the decedent’s fingerprints are on the gun which was found next to his body." Kovitch took a deep breath. "When Shan Wu-jin found himself trapped and slowly freezing to death, he realized that he had been derelict in his duty to those in his care—those who were still in the mountains." The pause was a bit longer as the bailiff took the pictures to the judges. "Therefore the despairing man ended his own life, as he had been taught was the better way."**

**Again there was murmuring which ended abruptly at a withering look from the head judge. The judges studied the pictures and skimmed over the forensic report. The minutes ticked by. Lee was fully aware of the heavy manacles pressing on his ankle and the cuffs irritating his wrists. He stood erect and as unflustered looking as he could. After a full fifteen minutes, where no one said anything or moved more than a quarter of an inch, Zu-shin looked up. "The evidence seems to corroborate what you have said, Mr. Kovitch. We will take everything into consideration."**

**The questions were unrelenting, though. "Where were you during the days in question?"**

**Crane met the judge’s hard gaze with one of his own. "I was trying to get to the coast. I found an empty cabin to hole up in when the storm hit."**

**"When you were captured, you were in possession of a rifle belonging to Shan Wu-jin. How did you come by this?"**

**Lee had wondered if the rifle was going to be traced to Nicoli. It fortuitous for the old man and his grandchild that it was Wu-jin's. "It was in the cabin I was staying in. I was out hunting because there wasn’t any more food."**

**"Commander, there was only one cabin in the area where you were captured and it was indeed occupied."**

**Crane smiled faintly, even though realizing that he was barking in the wind with this character. "General, if you read your own intelligence, you would know that the area is dotted with old, dilapidated cabins from the pre-purge days."**

**"You are lying, Commander! The area has been cleared of all such cabins. There was only one cabin in the area," Zu-shin barked and then he looked toward the back of the room, a faint smirk on his face. "With whom were you staying?"**

**Lee realized that Zu-shin wanted him to implicate Nicoli and wondered why. He shook his head. "The cabin where I was staying was empty."**

**Zu-shin seemed to turn another shade of red. "There is no need to go further with this. We have what we need to determine the outcome and we need nothing else." He turned his gaze to Kovitch. "You will hand us all notes, evidence and files that have bearing on this case." He turned to the other table, the prosecutor’s presumably. They certainly didn't have much to do this morning. "You will do the same. We will deliberate."**

**Crane stood stoically as the five men got up and then left the room.**

**From the small room where he was watching the monitor, Nirhan Kocerin sat stunned at the proceedings. General Zu-shin had put two and two together and figured it all out. But Crane was protecting his father and Neera. Why?**


	11. Chapter 11

December 19th, 1100 hours, UTC+8

**There was no seat in the cubicle, so Crane continued to stand, at the closest approximation to parade rest that he could get with the chains on his wrists and ankles. He glanced at Kovitch, who motioned that he would have to stand silently for however long the judges deliberated. Mentally shrugging, Lee continued to take in his surroundings as surreptitiously as he could. It was a matter of pride that he was determined not to fidget or act the least bit nervous. As a middie, he had stood for much longer periods of time, under a variety of conditions. He would just consider this to be a slightly different condition.**

**He had absolutely no doubt that he would be found guilty of all charges, including the one he really wasn't responsible for. Zu-shin had been a very high ranking military official, one who didn't hide his animosity for any western nation, especially the United States. Rumor had it that the general had been in charge of several failed operations against the _Seaview_ as well as against the United States and several of her allies. How the mighty had fallen on both sides of the struggle, Lee thought sardonically. He continued to stand, even as the heavy handcuffs finally began to put a strain on his back. Finally, after what seemed an interminably long time, Lee began to think back to his academy days. He remembered his roommates, Chip included, and instructors. His focus turned inward and he didn't see the courtroom anymore, nor did he hear the slight whispering in another language, or feel the weight of the restraints.**

**He had gone beyond the academy, his first assignment and was remembering his first days on _Seaview_ when he heard doors opening, the young bailiff calling everyone to attention and Kovitch getting up from his seat next to the cubicle. Lee brought his attention directly back to the five judges who were just sitting down. Lee noticed that Zu-shin looked somewhat pleased with himself. That certainly didn't bode well, he thought.**

**"Accused Lee Crane," one of the other judges called out.**

**Lee didn't move, only kept his gaze on the speaker.**

**"It has been determined that you are guilty of the charges of espionage and of illegal entry into the sovereign nation of The People's Republic. It has been determined that although the evidence was inconclusive in regards to the death of Shan Wu-jin, you have been instrumental in the deaths of citizens of our nation due to your captaincy of the enemy vessel, _Seaview._" He paused and took a couple of breaths. "In accordance to our laws, which are fair and just, it has been determined that your service to the citizens of The People's Republic will be no less than hard labor for the rest of your life. This arbitration is final and is not subject to appeal. Do you have any words of contrition to give to this court?"**

**Crane wasn't sure of the entirety of the sentencing speech, but the sentence itself was totally clear. It was his worst fear. Life in prison. He doubted that life would be very long, but for however long it was, it would be hell on earth. It was the worst possible sentence, and Zu-shin knew that. "Yes, I have," Lee said quietly. "I have no intention, as a member of the United States Navy, to do anything other than what I have done in the past, and that is to quit myself with honor. And as to the deaths that you lay at my doorstep, General," he said, gazing directly into Zu-shin's small, glittering eyes, "when you send someone to kill the more than one hundred men under my command, it is an act of war and I have responded accordingly and with all diligence."**

**Zu-shin almost snarled in his anger. He turned to the bailiff. "Prisoner will be remanded to the Zinitch prison until a suitable work assignment is determined."**

**Kovitch looked genuinely sorry, if not for the verdict, then for the sentence. Lee motioned a request to him and the lawyer nodded. The guard led Lee to the room that they had conferred in before the trial. The clock on the wall said that it was thirteen hundred hours. The judges had deliberated for over two hours?**

**"Wait here," the guard growled. "Although why is beyond me."**

**A few minutes later, Kovitch entered the room. He seemed nervous.**

**"Can I assume that they gave you a hard time about seeing me?" Crane asked in English.**

**Kovitch made it a point to speak in his own language this time. Crane knew why and knew he would have to be careful of his words. "They gave me five minutes. I don't know why, because they said no at first. I would guess that you only have about four and a half minutes, now. What did you want to tell or ask me?"**

**"Not tell you. Do you have a paper and pencil? I want to send a message, if you can manage it, to settle my affairs in the states."**

**Kovitch's eyes widened. "You don't have any kind of disposition of property?"**

**"In the event of my death, but I'm not dead right now. Paper, please?"**

**With a curt nod, Kovitch pulled a clean paper and a pen from his brief case and handed it to Lee.**

**Crane wrote what he had mentally composed during the short time after his sentencing. It wasn't much, but he knew that those closest to him would understand. "Here," he said, handing the paper to Kovitch even as the door opened, admitting two other guards. "If you can get this to the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, they will pass it along to the proper individuals."**

**"It's straight-forward—no codes? And you do know that it will be read before I can send it anywhere."**

**"Mr. Kovitch. Little late for that, isn't it? No, this is a straight-forward farewell to my friends and loved ones. I realize it will be read, but hopefully not published," he said. "Don't you think I should be able to ask for that?"**

**"Yes, Commander. That is not an unreasonable request."**

**"Thank you, Mr. Kovitch. And thank you for doing your best to help me. It couldn't have been an easy or even a desirable assignment." He stood up.**

**Kovitch nodded. "Thank you for your kind words, Commander Crane. I would wish you good luck, if it was possible that it would do any good." He leaned forward to shake Crane's hand, an act that would have surprised Lee had not the next thing surprised him more. "May God be with you," the lawyer said softly.**

**Lee followed the waiting guards out of the room.**

December 19th, 0800 hours, EST

**Nelson stubbed out the cigarette and nervously reached for another. His eyes looked out of the windows of the Eisenhower Office Building, but they weren't seeing anything but the face of his captain, as he first assumed command of _Seaview._ He saw the happier moments when all was well aboard the amazing vessel. Now? He had been told when the trial would be. Now he was nervously awaiting word as to the verdict. The telephone rang and the admiral jumped, its shrill ring jerking him back to reality.**

**The secretary, barely arrived and frowning at the too quick beginning to her day, answered it. After a few seconds, she looked up and beckoned to him. "Admiral, it's for you. State Department."**

**He was at the desk in two quick strides. "Yes?" His worst fears were confirmed. Lee had been sentenced to a life term of hard labor. "Yes, I understand. Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Cochran." He handed the phone back to the secretary and walked over to the window that showed the activity of Washington D.C. below. He turned back to the secretary. "Please let me know when the president is ready to leave. I am going to contact the Institute."**

**She seemed to sense something amiss. "Admiral Nelson, would you care to use my phone? It's secure and I need to step out for a moment."**

**He looked at her gratefully and nodded. "Thank you, Ms?"**

**"Candice Adams," she said with a reassuring smile.**

**"Thanks, Ms. Adams," he said, suddenly tired beyond measure. She got up and he sat in her seat. Quickly he dialed the Institute receptionist, grateful that he insisted that there be shifts posted twenty-four hours a day. A voice promptly answered. "Tish? You on the early shift?"**

**She made no attempt at small talk. "Have you heard about Lee?" she asked.**

**"Yes, he was sentenced to life."**

**He heard the barest hint of a sob on the other end, but she quickly controlled herself. "Do you want me to contact Commander Morton?"**

**"Yes, please and tell him that I'll be calling a little later to discuss this and other things."**

**"Yes, sir, and Admiral?"**

**"Yes, Tish?"**

**"I'm so sorry." She abruptly broke off and Nelson was sitting at the desk with a buzzing phone in his hand. He gently set it down and then he slammed his hand down on the desk. "Damn!" Then in a quieter voice, almost a whisper, he added, "God help him."**

December 19th, 1900 hours, UTC+8

**Nihran Kocerin sat in the overly large reception room in silence, staring at the small fire in the massive fireplace. He had watched the trial, felt the emotions run through his body. Too many emotions, too confusing. Neera climbed up on his lap and sat quietly. His wife stood in the doorway.**

**"Papa, what happened to Andjen?" she asked.**

**Oh, that he could have spared her this, but he had promised himself when she was a baby that he would be upfront and honest with his child as she grew up. "He is being taken back to prison. He is a spy and was here without permission."**

**"But Papa, if he hadn't been, Grandper would have died." The tears were filling her eyes. "I think I would have, too," she added softly. "Papa, how long will Andjen have to stay in prison this time?"**

**He mentally groaned. "Until he dies, my child."**

**He knew she had been holding in her emotions, but now she buried her face in his chest. "Papa, please, isn't there anything you can do? You are president! There has to be something," she sobbed.**

**Little did she know, he thought, just how little power he held. He remembered well the fate of the president before him--ignominious defeat in both the People's Council and the People's Protective Council, i.e. the military. It was the military that bothered him the most. While they didn't have the same power they used to, the generals and admirals still wielded a great amount of power and voice in the government. It wouldn't take much for them to overthrow the Council and him, and re-establish a military dictatorship if he didn't show the proper strength of leadership. "It's not that easy, little one."**

**"Papa, why? Why isn't it that easy? Andjen saved our lives, can't you save his?"**

**Nirhan Kocerin saw his wife standing just in the room, his father, on crutches in the doorway.**

**"I raised a smart boy," Nicoli said softly. "Smart enough to rise to leadership of a troubled country and give it hope of greatness."**

**Kocerin sighed lustily and pulled at his mustache. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Father. You are also a smart man and you know the consequences of such a thing as blatantly letting the American go, especially when it is learned what happened during that snow storm."**

**His father shrugged. "You got to your position not only by being intelligent, but also by being honorable in a very cruel world. You have now found honor among the enemy."**

**"I know," Kocerin groaned, laying his head back and closing his eyes. Neera still sat on his lap, but her tears were falling silently now. He opened his eyes again and looked at his wife.**

**"You know, Neera, that your Andjen has been in our country before, has helped traitors and others escape with valuable information that our people could have used," his wife commented.**

**Kocerin felt grateful for her loyalty, but somehow it didn't make him feel much better.**

**"Andjen was nice to us, why would he do that?"**

**Again, Kocerin sighed. "I guess because his country asked him to," he answered honestly.**

**"You have always served when you were called to and without hesitation or excuse," his father said, his voice still soft.**

**Kocerin wondered sardonically why his father didn't just knock him over the head with his crutch, his point was so blatant. "I can at least interview the man. Make my own judgments."**

**"Would you, Papa?" Neera asked, hopefully.**

**Yes, he thought, but where? He wanted to talk to the man privately, without fear of any of the conversation leaking out to anyone. Anyway he did it, the military would be aware of his actions. Both councils would be.**

**"Son, I cannot tell you what to do, but I believe that there could be benefits to being merciful with the American," Nicoli commented.**

**He nodded and then lay his hand against his daughter's cheek, wiping away some of her tears. "I can make no promises, but I will talk to Captain Crane. If he is your Andjen, then I will do what I can for him. Right now, I want you to finish getting ready for bed. I have to make arrangements."**

December 20th, 1700 hours, UTC+8

**Crane sat in the secure cage in the back of a People's Republic sedan, wondering what the hell was going on. He had been unceremoniously pulled from his cell shortly after his evening meal and hustled to the prison administrator's office. That the man was very incensed, was a given, but why? The administrator had lectured him on proper behavior and how the least little infraction on Lee's part would result in automatic execution. Then the cuffs and manacles were put back on and he was escorted, under heavy guard, to the sedan. The windows were darkly tinted and therefore he wasn't able to see out. When he had been transferred to the car, Lee had noticed that there were no stars and the air felt like snow. The wind was biting and he was still wearing only what he had been given for the trial. Still, he was thankful they hadn't traded the new clothes back for his old rags.**

**After a short distance, the car stopped and a guard opened the door. He was in the back of a very large building, almost mansion-like. This couldn't be his new 'hard labor' assignment.**

**"Move, prisoner. Why you are being singled out for this honor, I wouldn't know," the guard grumbled. "The president must be crazy."**

**Wet snowflakes began to fly in his face, made more forceful by the strong wind, but he didn't try to wipe them away. Lee struggled up a flight of stone steps, made difficult by not only the wind and snow, but also the manacles that weighed his legs down.**

**Someone opened the door to them and they were soon in a pleasantly warm pantry area. The steamy smell of some kind of spiced coffee wafted from the kitchen just beyond the inner doorway and Crane had to restrain himself from trying to peer into the room for a better scent of something denied him for almost three weeks.**

**"Wipe your feet, prisoner, and follow me," a very tall, austere man told him. He was dark, with heavy brows that made one black, bushy line across his face. The eyes were expressionless, but wary and Lee didn't doubt that he would wipe the floor with him if he got out of line. Doing what he was told, Crane followed the man, one of his prison guards taking up the rear.**

**The large man led him to a room that appeared to be some kind of office, although it had a fireplace, couch and bookshelves. "You will wait, Commander Crane," the large man instructed.**

**"May I ask for whom?" Lee asked.**

**"For me," the newcomer said, coming in behind the trio.**

**Crane turned and was astonished to see President Nirhan Li Kocerin gazing at him. "President Kocerin?"**


	12. Chapter 12

December 20th, 1900 hours, UTC+8

**The president smiled. "You recognize me."**

**"Yes, sir. The recent election was very much publicized," Lee answered.**

**Kocerin nodded. "And instant results were expected," he replied dryly.**

**"Sir, I think that is normal for any leader."**

**"You speak as from experience."**

**"Yes, sir."**

**"Commander, I won't waste my time and yours asking what you were doing in my country. I suspect I know. You are the best person to recognize if something similar to your _Seaview_ is being built in The People's Republic. Did you find out?"**

**"Sir, you realize that whether true or not, I couldn't tell you that, either." Crane studied the man and found that Kocerin had been elected for more than his rugged good looks. Down inside was a man to be reckoned with. Lee wondered why he had been brought to speak with him.**

**"Yes, you have been trained well." Kocerin sat down behind his large, highly polished wooden desk. "Sit down on the couch, Captain. I will have someone bring us some coffee."**

**Lee sat. The two plus hours standing in that courtroom had done nothing good for his back, shoulders and arms.**

**"You present me with a problem," Kocerin said after sending the prison guard to get the beverage.**

**"I thought your court took care of that, sir," Crane responded hesitantly. He continued to wonder just what in the world was this guy up to? A different approach to interrogation?**

**"Let's not play games, Commander," Kocerin said with a frown. He pulled on one side of his full mustache. "General Zu-shin and the rest of the court don't have to sit in that summit and hear the recriminations of the western heads of state."**

**"Personally, Mr. President, I would have been perfectly happy to have not put you in that situation," Lee replied, deadly serious. "I feel I am most productive in a submarine, not a dungeon." For some reason, he felt the president's candor was genuine and not part of a game, so he was going to respond in kind. He was here for the duration, so nothing he said would make anything better and it certainly couldn't be any worse. Kocerin could have his chat, send him back and be done with him.**

**"And from what I have been told, you most likely would have been back on your submarine except for one little thing," Kocerin said, pulling out a pipe and filling it with great deliberation.**

**Through the door came the little girl Lee had thought never to see again and was shocked to see now.**

**"Andjen!" Neera cried, rushing toward him, jumping into his lap, unmindful of the chains. She hugged him briefly and then stroked his stubbly cheek. "Are you all right?"**

**Crane didn't answer, only gazing at the president in horror. Somehow, they had found out and brought Neera here to corroborate her involvement. "She didn't know, Mr. President. She really didn't know who I was. It . . . it was only by accident we met."**

December 20th, 0900 hours, just east of the International Date Line.

**Commander Chip Morton, acting captain of the largest research submarine in the world, stood in the observation nose of the same watching the dark, foamy waves break against the herculite windows. The darkness of the waves, the blackness of the sky above them matched his mood. He felt his eyes smart and he willed the anger, frustration and despair he felt inside to stay there. _Why the hell did you keep taking these things on, Lee Crane? Why would you continue to flirt with death this way? _Death would have been easier, he thought somberly. It would have been easier for all of them, he thought guiltily.**

**"Mr. Morton, shouldn't we take her down below the storm?" O'Brien asked softly from just behind his shoulder. "We're starting to get the motion."**

**Chip brought himself back to the present and realized Frank was right. He could feel the exaggerated sway now. "Take her down to ninety feet, Mr. O'Brien."**

**"Aye, sir." But still O'Brien stayed by his shoulder. "Sir," he began and cleared his throat. "What are we going to do in Korea? What can we do there?"**

**"Be a presence, an escort for the president," Chip said, keeping the bitter edge from his voice. "And because we have been asked to." Again, it was duty; always duty. It had been duty that had prompted Lee to take that assignment into The People's Republic simply for verification purposes. A seemingly simple assignment with only a couple of contacts and almost no one knowing that he was coming. He hadn't even known until several days after Lee had left that day a week after Thanksgiving. So what had gone wrong? They would most likely never know unless the Republic decided to make a propaganda circus out of this. And then it would have to be taken with about ten tablespoons of disbelief.**

**At least Frank hadn't done what some of the rest of the crew had done, asked why they weren't going in and springing Lee out of that prison. Not that he wouldn't have been first in line to do just that, if there had been a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding and if the repercussions would not have precluded such a move. Politics! Blasted politics!**

**Chip noticed that O'Brien had moved into the conn and was issuing the orders. The waves were over the tops of the observation windows and he felt the slight shift as the boat slipped below the waves. Chip noticed the box under one of the windows. Christmas decorations. If they didn't feel like celebrating Christmas on the boat, the men should have been able to celebrate with their families, he thought irritably. Christmas on the boat was going to be bleak this year. Even the men who were newest on the sub, those who knew Lee the least, were affected. He sighed. He was the head of the boat right now and he should take the lead at establishing some sort of normalcy.**

**"Kowalski," he called as he turned and faced the conn.**

**"Sir?" the senior rate called out from his sonar station.**

**"Get someone to put up the decorations up here," he ordered. "And in the mess, too. We'll be in Korea or enroute back to the states on Christmas Day and we need to observe it properly."**

**The look he received briefly was 'why?', but 'Ski simply said, "Aye, sir," and passed the order along.**

**Chip remembered Kowalski's initial impression of their incarcerated captain and it hadn't been flattering. Of course, Lee hadn't done anything to impress the young rate, but that hadn't been long in changing. With effort, Chip dragged his mind to the boat's operations and away from that which would distract him.**

**"Mr. Morton?" Sparks called out from the radio shack.**

**He answered as he walked aft. "What is it, Sparks?"**

**"Communication from the admiral, sir."**

**Chip picked up the headset and responded.**

**"Chip, I am heading toward Korea, ETA approximately four hours ahead of _Seaview._"**

**"Packages aboard, sir?"**

**"Package. Other packages coming conventionally," Nelson responded. "They left before I did and will arrive about the time I do."**

**"Yes, sir. Any instructions, Admiral?"**

**"No, Chip. Nothing I haven't already told you."**

**"Very well, sir. We're at flank speed and should be docking at Seoul by mid-day local time."**

**"All right, Chip. Carry on."**

**"Aye, sir and have a good trip," Chip told him. There was no response before the admiral cut the communications, not that he really expected one.**

**Nelson loosened the throat communicator and turned to the President of the United States. Behind him sat two Secret Service agents. One appeared nervous, his hands gripping the ends of the seat with white-knuckle force. The other was watching everything he did, while seemingly enjoying the trip. He smiled reassuringly to the admiral, who nodded in acknowledgement. Nelson turned back to the president. "If we continue at the same rate of speed, sir, we should be at Cheju approximately 0900 local time."**

**"Good. And Harry, I appreciate you doing this."**

**"I volunteered, if you remember, Mr. President," Nelson said with a tight smile.**

**"Yes, I know, but I still appreciate it. I know this is painful."**

**"Restraint is painful, sir. Having to sit on my hands is what's painful." Nelson felt the president's eyes on him as he flew through the clouds into the bright sunshine at 40,000 feet. He put the Flying Sub on auto-cruise and felt the power of his revised and well-tested ion drive kicking into effect. The clouds seemed to flow below him. With deliberate attention, Harry studied all the systems, from the propulsion to the defensive systems. Finally satisfied, he turned to his passenger. "How do you like her, Mr. President?"**

**"I am very impressed, Harry. She is a wonderful addition to all your other inventions. Maybe I'll have a few built to replace the presidential jets," he said with a laugh.**

**"Not a bad idea, sir. I will more than cooperate with any builders, or I can have one built. I have several as you know."**

**The president nodded. He was a resolute man, slightly prematurely aged from his presidency, but then, Nelson thought, that was par for the course. The man beside him was still as vibrant as the one who had been nearly killed in that undersea bunker four years ago. There were a few more lines and a little more gray hair, but the energy and fire was still there. "Harry, I will do my best to talk to President Kocerin about Lee, but there are no guarantees."**

**"I know, sir."**

December 20th, 1900 hours, UTC+8

**Kocerin studied the American. He had received a verification of the suspicion he had had earlier today at the trial. With that verification came an even higher regard for the man across the room from him. The prison guard came in with a tray, on which a pot and several cups sat. Steam wafted from the pot. Kocerin directed the man to set it on his desk. "You may wait outside the door. My personal guard will be more than adequate to protect me if anything should happen," he told the man. With a nod, the man left the room. "Kroshna, would you pour us all a cup of coffee?"**

**"Yes, Mr. President," the large man said.**

**He turned his attention back to the anxious man, Neera sitting on his lap looking puzzled at her American friend's behavior. "Captain Crane, I suspected this morning when you were answering the judges questions, but your reaction now confirmed that suspicion. You had no idea that Neera is my daughter."**

**Crane's anxiety turned to stunned relief and he looked down into the young face before turning back to the Republic president. "No, sir, I didn't. I didn't ask Neera for any background any more than I gave her any of mine."**

**"Not that I suspect it would have mattered that much," Kocerin said with a smile.**

**"No, sir, although at first, I was tempted to turn around and walk out the door that first moment."**

**"But you didn't and for that I thank you. My daughter is very precious to me, as is my father."**

**"How is your father, President Kocerin?"**

**"He is doing really well, thanks to you," the president replied. He took the cup Kroshna gave him. The bodyguard handed a cup to Crane, who accepted it gratefully. To his amusement, the American held the cup under his nose for a moment before taking a taste. Kocerin continued, "He wanted to meet you while you were here. I suspect the smell of the coffee will bring him in shortly."**

**Crane smiled. "I can understand. It's very good."**

**Kocerin returned the smile. "Now do you understand my dilemma?"**

**"Sir, I'm afraid that I don't understand anymore than I did before."**

**"I owe you a great deal, Captain, but I have limits to my power, whether you believe that or not. My daughter seems to think I can simply give the word and you will step blithely back to your submarine without any repercussions to me or my administration."**

**A nod indicated the American's understanding. "You have to do your duty, sir," Crane said quietly. "I can ask nothing of you, beyond what you can realistically do."**

**Kocerin had seen several emotions pass over the man's face, not the least of which was hope, but he saw the American will them all away. The president was impressed, but it didn't change the situation in the least. "I could ask for a promise that you would never return to my country," he ventured.**

**"Are you offering me a deal, sir?" Crane asked and then shook his head. "President Kocerin, as much as I would like to promise anything to get out of that . . . uh, prison," he began, glancing quickly at the girl still in his lap. "Such a promise isn't mine to give. I have been sworn to defend the Constitution of the United States and to protect my country from any threat. If I was ordered to return, I would be duty bound to do so."**

**"I realize that, Captain, which I somehow expected you to say," Kocerin said. He still couldn't see any mutually satisfying solution to the situation. They sat and drank their coffee in companionable silence until Neera broke the silence.**

**"May I still call you Andjen?" she asked. She was still sitting in his lap. "And I want Kroshna to take these off you," she added, with a frown.**

**Crane laughed softly, but it had a slightly bitter edge, which Kocerin knew his daughter didn't notice. "Yes, Neera, you may call me Andjen or Lee, whichever you prefer."**

**"And would you tell Papa the Christmas story you told me?"**

**"Which one?" he asked.**

**"The one about the Grinch," she said.**

**Crane looked at Kocerin with a questioning look. The president simply said, "I can assume that is some American legend or tale?"**

**"A children's book that has become very famous, sir. A poem that I retold Neera one night when she had trouble sleeping. I'm afraid that I don't know the poem by heart."**

**"Be my guest, Commander. The least I can do is spend time enjoying your company for a few hours."**

**Crane looked grateful and like Scheherazade, Kocerin suspected that the American would stretch out and enjoy the moments as long as he feasibly could. He stroked his mustache and then settled back to hear the story.**


	13. Chapter 13

December 21st, 1300 hours, Seoul standard time

**Nelson accompanied the president and his bodyguards into the reception area. He saw President Kocerin as well as the heads of state from about ten other nations, presenting a gamut of ideologies and forms of government. He realized it was an historic event, but he was having a great deal of trouble being patient with all the hoopla that was going on now. Formal receptions and photo extravaganzas. Since this was a first for a couple of the nations, there were cultural entertainments slated, ranging from singing to dancing to even acrobatics from The People’s Republic. That would be most of this day and evening. He didn’t expect that the two presidents would have any time to speak alone today. He sighed and pulled at the cuffs of his dress blues.**

**"Sorry to hear about the imprisonment of your captain, my dear Admiral," a voice said from behind him.**

**Nelson recognized the voice even as he turned around. It was the Indian prime minister. "Thank you, sir," Nelson replied evenly. He really didn’t want to even talk about it now.**

**"Since you are here, can I assume you are planning on talking to the People’s Republic president?" the very proper Oxford trained voice asked.**

**Nelson had no plans, but he wasn’t going to tell this man that. "The president asked me to bring him to the summit and I was more than happy to do so."**

**"Ah, but my dear Admiral, your submarine is docked in Seoul…."**

**"Because we have a research mission in the northern Pacific after Christmas," Harry responded quickly. What he didn’t say was that the mission, while technically after Christmas, was actually in February.**

**"Well, whatever you have in mind, may I wish you great success in recovering your Captain Crane," the prime minister said.**

**"May I ask how you knew about this?" Nelson asked warily. "This was mainly passed along through diplomatic channels."**

**"Indeed it was, sir. The People’s Republic envoy informed me personally yesterday. He is rather good at keeping me informed of Republic successes, you know."**

**Nelson almost groaned. Yes, there were those in the Republic who would be very quick to exploit this ‘victory.’ He wondered if Kocerin had directed that ‘leak’? If so, then anything the president would discuss with him would be inconsequential. Unfortunately, Harry had no more ability to talk to the United States president privately now as he would with the Republic president. As Doc might say, right now it was totally in the hands of God. Not that he didn’t trust God, but Harry felt that God helped those who were working hard for the same ends. And right now, there was absolutely nothing he could do. It was not a position he relished in the least.**

December 21, 2200 hours, Seoul standard time

**Nirhan Kocerin looked at the schedule of events and groaned aloud. Kroshna, who had been checking the room with the other bodyguards sent with him, turned. "Are you ill, sir?" The other guards were stationed in adjoining hotel rooms now, with one outside his hotel room door. Kroshna would be the only guard inside, which suited him just fine.**

**"No, I’m just looking at this schedule and wondering which masochist put it together," he said sarcastically.**

**"Too many things to discuss and not enough time set aside to do so," Kroshna said bluntly.**

**"Yes, I would have liked another day, but most of these people celebrate Christmas and want to be gone by Christmas Eve," Kocerin said. He felt a rapport with Kroshna, one that superseded that of servant to master and visa versa. He could be blunt with the man and Kroshna was blunt with him when he felt warranted in doing so.**

**Now was one of those times. "Your family also expects you home for these Christmas days, sir, even if you do not believe in the reasons for the holiday."**

**"I know," Kocerin replied, still thinking of what else Neera expected of him. And what his father expected as well, even though it had not been expressed. "I would like word sent to the American president that I would like to speak with him privately. I want this to be as secret as possible, so I suspect that it will be some time after all the events listed on this schedule.**

**Kroshna looked at the offending papers and grunted. "That would make it very late. Perhaps this American won’t want to meet that late."**

**"I noticed Admiral Harriman Nelson accompanying him at the beginning of the afternoon events. I do believe that the president has been asked to speak to me about Captain Crane, so I don’t think that is an issue."**

**"Do you wish me to directly take your request to his personal assistant?"**

**"Yes, Kroshna, tomorrow during breakfast, a bit before if possible."**

**"Very well, sir, I will do that."**

December 22nd, 1900 hours, Seoul standard time

**"President Kocerin, is it true what we are hearing from your country’s news service that a member of the American Navy was captured, tried and imprisoned in your country several days ago?" an annoyingly nasal voice asked, butchering his language horribly. The man, whom Kocerin took to be an American, had been staked outside of the dining hall and had partially pushed past the bodyguards to ask the very loud question. It seemed to get very quiet around him.**

**His irritation level increased with that silence. "Sir, what is on my country’s news service is something I will not discuss with you or any others of your profession at the moment. Anything that involves Americans, in or not in my country, I will discuss with the American envoy. Then you will know what is or is not happening in our two respective countries."**

**He cursed under his breath, but wasn’t surprised. His political opponents had waited longer to embarrass him then he thought they would. Or perhaps by waiting they hoped to get the most effect out of this news in the western world during a summit they had rigorously opposed him attending. Regardless, it was good he and the American president were meeting tonight. If this was going to become newsworthy to the general public, he needed to figure out how to handle the fallout that would come of it.**

December 22nd, 2300 hours, Seoul standard time.

**Kocerin walked into the small room with Kroshna at his heels and the other bodyguard staying at the door. He had watched from the doorway as members of his country’s guard and the American president’s secret service checked the room for devices. This had been only the second time such a sweep had been performed, but that was fine with Kocerin. He didn’t want anything he said becoming common knowledge. It was bad enough that the incident with Crane was becoming international news.**

**He walked in and took a seat in a large overstuffed chair. It was too low for his frame and he already felt uncomfortable. He would have preferred to sit on the floor, a custom among some of the ethnic groups of The People’s Republic, as opposed to this western built, overstuffed fluff.**

**The Americans entered and he rose. He had seen and heard the American president during the summit meetings. The prepared speeches had not overly impressed him, although Kocerin had to admit that the man, in a generic way, had some good points. Yes, world peace was an admirable goal. Yes, environmental cooperation was also admirable. However, the goals were generic, with no specifics for them to be achieved. All in all, he felt that the only thing he had gained today was having been able to watch and observe the various heads of state. As for himself, Kocerin had said little, listened much and committed to nothing.**

**There had been another question about the trial of the American, but his answer had been as generic as everyone else’s had been about pollution, the environment and arms reduction. Kocerin would have been happier spending these days at home with his family.**

**But he wasn’t. He was in the same room with the American president, the man whom his predecessor had called an evil war-monger, a decadent leader of a decadent country. Kocerin had done some research, watched videos, read news releases, from his country as well as the United States and her allies. The man seemed astute and capable. The president seemed also to be tied by the same political restrictions as he was. His country’s economy had improved during his first four years and it was still prospering. So a talk, even without the pall of this trial, was something that Kocerin welcomed.**

**Just as Kroshna stood warily behind his chair, one of his counterpart’s security men stood near the president, while another stood by the wall. He reached out his hand in the western form of greeting. "I am so glad you agreed to this private meeting, Mr. President."**

**The American took his hand and shook it firmly. "As am I, President Kocerin. I have wanted to talk with you privately, but someone on the planning committee of this summit has a perverse sense of humor, or a mean streak."**

**The man’s candor was welcome, especially considering that it was the same opinion that he himself held. "I agree. If I may speak candidly, I believe that most decisions are made publicly after much private discussion."**

**"I am impressed with your open-mindedness, sir," the president said as they sat down across from one another. "I also feel that we can discuss delicate and very private differences openly and without rancor. I welcome that."**

**Kocerin noticed that the American had stressed the word private and he nodded to his other guard near the door. "Please wait outside, Misha. We will be safe and by being outside you will prevent any unnecessary interruptions."**

**Misha looked a bit distressed, but he obeyed. The American president did the same and they were each left with one bodyguard, presumably people whose discretion was assured. Kocerin was sure of such from Kroshna. He would hope for the same from the American leader.**

**The conversation began awkwardly, each trying to feel out the other. A variety of things came up, including questions about nuclear weapons that almost had Kocerin walking out. He felt the Americans had a great deal of nerve talking about the use of nuclear energy, whether for peaceful purposes or for defense, when they had more weapons stockpiled than every other country on earth. But just about the time that Kocerin was about to call a halt to the meeting, the president changed the subject.**

**"I have been trying to find out the extent of the damage the strange weather patterns have had on your country’s resources. It’s been difficult, but I have heard that there have been food shortages," the president said. As Kocerin again began to bristle, the American continued. "Despite our differences, the United States is ready to help immediate needs among your people."**

**Mollified, Kocerin tried to think of an answer that would put off the offer without insulting the man across from him. Thing about it was, he really couldn’t. There were shortages, there were problems caused by extreme weather changes. "In exchange for what, sir?" he asked bluntly.**

**The president sighed. "The effort to stave off death can have no price tag. I would hope that such an effort would only net both of our countries increased understanding, that would increase dialogue and cooperation with each other." He paused a moment and then continued. "I am very gratified that your country has allowed a diplomatic office in your capital."**

**Kocerin considered. "That is something we can discuss further, Mr. President." Then he took a deep breath to tackle an issue that was a particular sore point of his. He was determined not to bring up the imprisoned American until the president did. "I would most like to discuss your country’s trade embargo against our country."**

**"As would I." The president smiled slightly. "Believe me, I think a relaxing of the embargo would benefit not only The People’s Republic, but the United States as well. The only problem is the history of our relations. Your predecessors tried several times to either sabotage our interests or to outright attempt to begin a war with us or to destroy our homeland."**

**Kocerin couldn’t deny the accusations. "And what of your ships and submarines, including that so-called civilian research submarine, _Seaview?_"**

**"The _Seaview_ is not a United States military vessel. It’s privately owned."**

**"It may be privately owned, but it’s loaded to the hilt with military devices, including nuclear warheads on torpedoes and missiles. And it has been used in operations against our country."**

**"Only after actions by your country, or for defensive actions."**

**"Semantics, Mr. President. You will simply have to trust that our agenda for nuclear energy is for civilian purposes and for defense."**

**"I will have to admit that there have been no covert actions against my country since you took office."**

**Kocerin mentally cringed, remembering his predecessors’ plots and schemes. And yet he bristled slightly at the statement. "Unlike your countryman’s incursion into my country, presumably to spy on us," Kocerin shot back.**

**"I assume you are talking about Captain Lee Crane?"**

**"Yes," Kocerin said stoutly.**

**"I am concerned about the news that is coming from your country. I am a bit dismayed about it coming at this time. The American people are much more sentimental at this time of year. They will be disturbed about the possibility of ill treatment and torture. I cannot help but wonder at the benefit it will give you, especially here."**

**"The man was an agent of an American espionage organization, Mr. President. He did have a fair trial. And he has not been tortured. Admittedly, we do not coddle our prisoners as your country does, but Commander Crane has not been tortured."**

**"I will not refute the charge of spying, President Kocerin. However, I was informed as to who was in charge of his trial and that disturbed me. General Zu-shin was one of the most ardent anti-American leaders of your military and I can’t believe that he’s changed all that much, for all that he’s been demoted. That he was the head judge gives me cause to question Commander Crane’s rights of fair trial." He paused for a quick breath. "I suppose I am more concerned with what we can do, if anything, to affect his release."**

**"I have a particular reason to want to do that, too," Kocerin admitted. Now the conversation was going in the direction that he really believed both of them had wanted in the first place. They could have spared the past hour of bantering and verbal sparring. He could feel the fatigue weighing down on him. "I want to be candid with you, sir, and didn’t want it done in a public forum, which was why I asked for this meeting. I feel that I can trust you as an individual. I cannot say the same for some of your legislators and members of leadership positions."**

**"I can only do so much on my own, Mr. Kocerin. Most important decisions and actions are dependent on the cooperation between myself and those legislators and senators elected to run the government."**

**Kocerin saw more similarities between himself and the American than differences. Americans liked to do things much more openly, he thought, which in his opinion was sometimes a serious mistake. How could private citizens know what was best for the whole of the country? Be that as it may, the problem of Captain Lee Crane wasn’t going to be a simple one to solve. "It is similar with me. Only the legislators and senators that you talk about would be the militarists and members of the Citizen’s Committee that are opposed to my policies. I didn’t pick Gen. Zu-shin to head the court, nor did I arrange for the news of Crane’s capture and trial to be publicized at this particular time. If you think about it, this would be the worst possible time for news like that to come to light."**

**The president nodded. "I think I understand, but what did you mean when you said that you had a particular reason for wanting to help the commander?"**

**"Commander Crane was only captured because he had taken the time to save my injured father and my daughter who had been trapped in the mountains during that terrible blizzard that struck earlier this month."**

**The American president’s jaw almost dropped open in shock. "What?!"**


	14. Chapter 14

December 23rd, 0130 hours, Seoul standard time

**"Yes, I have not disclosed that to our news service, nor did I realize everything that had happened during the four days of the storm," Kocerin continued. "I was frantic with worry the whole time, but there was little I could do but hope that they were all right in the cabin. It was only until after the trial had been scheduled and a lawyer appointed for Commander Crane that I realized everything that had happened," Kocerin said. "Now I have to try to figure out a way to repay the debt and still survive the political fallout." He smiled wanly. "Politics is difficult no matter what one’s ideology is."**

**The American still looked stunned, but he quickly recovered himself. "How ironic," he finally murmured. "I, too, owe Captain Crane a debt. He was one of those responsible for saving my life four years ago." Suddenly he yawned. "I’m sorry, President Kocerin, but perhaps we should sleep on this, think more about it and then meet again tomorrow night. Maybe by then we can figure out a way to salvage this situation in a mutually satisfying way." He stood up and extended his hand. "I would truly like to meet with you again and not just about Captain Crane’s situation. I have enjoyed this meeting, even when we didn’t agree. I look forward to a time of total mutual understanding and cooperation."**

**More rhetoric, but there was nothing to argue with in the sentiments. Kocerin nodded. "I, too, have felt a great benefit in talking with you in this way. I believe such meetings can only have positive benefits for our two countries." And Kocerin truly believed what he had just said.**

**"Tomorrow after the closing festivities?"**

**"Yes, that would be fine, Mr. President."**

December 23rd, 2100 hours, Seoul Standard time

**Nelson was bored, irritated, and then annoyed at his irritation, because of his inability to accomplish a single thing to help Lee at these two days of hot air and posturing. He could have been working on one of his many inventions or experiments for the past two and a half days if he was going to go back empty-handed. He jerked at the jacket of his dress blues once more, the drink in his other hand forgotten. That the president seemed to be happy about the proceedings just showed how all inclusive his politics were. But then, Harry had never given a damn about politics, only wanting to see the results of direct communications in the lives of those around him. And there had been no direct communications for him at this summit, Harry thought sourly.**

**Suddenly one of the president’s secret servicemen was standing before him. "Admiral Nelson, the president requests your presence after these festivities are concluded. He is having a very important meeting before we can leave for your submarine. I will let you know exactly when and where the meeting will be."**

**Nelson felt hope within and asked, "Who is he meeting?"**

**"I am not at liberty to say, sir, but I was requested to have you present."**

**"Thank you, I will be ready."**

**The man nodded and strode away. Nelson had more time to ponder this latest event.**

December 23rd, 2330 hours, Seoul standard time

**Kocerin and the American president sat across from one another as they had the night before, only later this time. It had been a long day, one that had included some good among a lot of pretension and posturing. Again, his impression was that the only thing accomplished at this summit was the promise from most of the heads of state to meet again in the new year. Of course that was empty, as far as Kocerin was concerned, since no one could decide on a place of meeting. Everyone wanted it to be in their own country not only for convenience but for propaganda reasons. Kocerin had hesitated to do more than to be open for another meeting.**

**He had also arranged for private meetings with about half of the attending heads of state; meetings which he felt would be more productive than what had been accomplished the past sixty hours.**

**"President Kocerin, I am in my second term of office and have found that one of the most valuable things I have learned is the ability to work the press to my advantage," the president began without preamble. "Now I may be naïve in regards to your country’s media."**

**"What is your idea, Mr. President and I will tell you if you are naïve or not," Kocerin replied.**

**"Pardon Captain Crane and release him within the next twenty-four hours and I will definitely push that good will gesture to your advantage."**

**"You are a bit naïve, but your idea has merit. I do have to have something, though, to take back to my people other than a good will gesture." Kocerin pulled at one of his mustaches. "I have to have something other than good press out of this, no matter how much I owe Commander Crane."**

**"Sir, may I interject something," Kroshna spoke up suddenly in his own language.**

**The Americans raised their eyebrows, but Kocerin simply nodded.**

**"You made a hypothetical statement to Captain Crane the night before we came here. He said that he had not the authority to make such a promise. However," he turned to the United States president, "You are the leader of your armed forces, are you not, sir?"**

**Kocerin translated and the president nodded. In an instant The People’s Republic president understood what his personal bodyguard was asking.**

**"You talked with Captain Crane?" the president asked, incredulous.**

**"I had to be sure that he was indeed the same person who had been in that cabin taking care of my injured father and my daughter." The American nodded. "And when I realized that he was, I had to thank him as best as I could."**

**"That is why you asked for the private meeting?"**

**"Yes, it was, but I am still unable to figure out how to make this a mutually beneficial to Captain Crane and to both of our countries," Kocerin admitted. "One thing I would like to ask you—the thing that Captain Crane could not commit to—is if you would make sure that Captain Crane not come back to our country for espionage purposes. If, as you say, you are the commander of all the military forces in your country, you should be able to do that."**

**"Indeed I can. In my personal opinion, Captain Lee Crane is too talented a sub commander to be also involved in spy missions. I will remove him from the rolls of whatever agency that has been using him for undercover espionage."**

**"I plan on suggesting to our news agencies that the anti-American rhetoric be softened. I can’t promise a cessation, however, and to be honest with you, in the interest of what you call freedom of speech…."**

**The American smiled and then began laughing. Finally, he continued, sobering quickly, "President Kocerin, it is such a relief to be able to speak with you face to face. I suppose I will owe Captain Crane for that one, as well. I know that there are still many differences…."**

**"I do not wish to insult, but let us work on the here and now and not what might be or could be, sir. I make no apologies for my country or its policies. I simply want my people to be happy and prosperous. My predecessors have tried to do that by conquest, I am trying a different way. That does not mean that I am leaning toward democracy as you would like to think."**

**The American sat quietly, contemplatively for a few seconds and then nodded. "You are right, President Kocerin. You are entirely right. Perhaps striving for more understanding between us, instead of thinking competitively or thinking of each other as devils incarnate is the first step."**

**It was Kocerin’s turn to think for a short while.**

**Before he could say anything, his counterpart began speaking again. "Maybe I can sweeten the pot a bit, so to speak," the president began. "In response to your magnanimous gesture of pardoning your American prisoner, I will strongly recommend to Congress that they review and then ease the trade embargo that is currently in place against your country."**

**"I seem to have read that there are those in your Congress who wish to ease sanctions against all countries like mine," Kocerin reminded the president, slightly stroking his mustache.**

**"There are and what you wish to do for Captain Crane will bring more over to that same opinion."**

**Kocerin turned to Kroshna. He was thinking ahead to the next day and what he planned on reporting to the official news agency about the summit and about the American, but first he had to get Crane out of his country. "I want you to return immediately to the Republic in the secondary jet, and then escort Captain Crane to the Jinzhou Airport where he and you will fly to the Seoul Airport. As soon as you leave here, I will make the call to the prison administrator, so that the American will be ready for immediate transport to the airport. I will make other calls and everything should be ready for you each step of the way. When you arrive in Korea, please give the following message to Captain Crane from me and Neera; ‘Merry Christmas.’ "**

**Kroshna bowed slightly, then straightened up, "Sir, I will instruct Misha as to the importance of what he is to do in my absence. And I will carry out all of your instructions."**

**"Thank you, Kroshna. I know you will." Kocerin gave a few more instructions and then dismissed the younger man to carry out his orders. When he had left and Misha entered the room, Kocerin turned to the American. "Kroshna is on his way back home to effect the release of the American. I need to make the appropriate calls and then we can consider this a very successful night."**

**"I have someone outside who will expedite Captain Crane’s arrival when you have made the arrangements, President Kocerin."**

**Kocerin knew who that someone was. The same man who only a few years ago had been in the top echelon of those targeted for assassination. "Admiral Harriman Nelson."**

**"Yes. He has been very worried about his man."**

**"Then the admiral needs to keep a tighter rein on him," Kocerin said bluntly. He put his briefcase on top of the narrow coffee table that had sat between them the entirety of their meetings and opened it. Inside was a high-powered mobile phone that would instantly link him to the highest priority government telephone lines. He made the calls, giving the instructions in a way that allowed no questions. When he was finished, he noticed that it was well after midnight, but he realized that was only as it should be. It was Christmas Eve. As his counterpart had said, Americans tended to be sentimental and this would play well in the United States. Hopefully well enough to open the door to a brighter economic future for the people of his country. He closed his briefcase and nodded to the very tired looking American. "Arrangements have been made. I would suggest that nothing further be done until Captain Crane is in the air on his way to Seoul. That would preclude any premature action."**

**"In other words, in case something goes wrong," the president said.**

**"Yes. Perhaps it would be better for us all to retire to our rooms. I knew that this would be late, so I have retained my suite until tomorrow morning."**

**The American chuckled. "I did the same, as did the admiral.**

December 24th, 0300 hours, UTC+8

**"Wake up, prisoner!" growled a harsh voice. The prodding of a police baton accompanied the interlude to an unsettled sleep. Lee Crane had been dreaming of a Christmas long ago. The much younger version of his present self had wanted to stay up and watch for Santa Claus. The surreal nature of the dream had some unknown voice telling him he’d been bad and wouldn’t be getting a visit from Santa this year. It had been General Zu-shin.**

**"Wake up now!" the voice repeated. Even as Lee opened his eyes to the relatively harsh light coming from the hallway, he was grasped by the collar and dragged from his rack.**

**"All right, I’m getting up," he retorted as the man released him. He replaced the sneaker that had fallen off when he had been jerked awake. Were they going to transfer him now? And what day was it. If his reckoning had been right, the last two meals marked the twenty-third of December. It was probably Christmas Eve now. "What’s going on?" he asked, even as he was shoved out into the hall.**

**"I have orders for your transfer, prisoner. Let’s go now."**

**"Where?"**

**The guard shoved him roughly forward. "I don’t know and wouldn’t tell you if I did, so shut up."**

**Crane shut up. He would know soon enough. He was hauled the same route taken when he had gone to trial, and the same route as when he was taken to Kocerin’s residence. In the small area adjacent to the exit, another guard placed the hated manacles and cuffs on. Sure enough, a government sedan was waiting just outside the double-doored exit. Before Lee had a chance to do more than notice the bitterly cold wind, he was ordered in and the door was shut behind him. The car was warm, though and he wasn’t going to squander even a little bit of relative comfort. Crane settled back and closed his eyes, waiting stoically for whatever the next phase of his life brought him. The drive was longer than the ones to either the courtroom or to the president’s residence.**

**He must have dozed because he was suddenly awakened by intense cold and bright lights in his eyes. "Get out, prisoner," the guard/driver barked.**

**To Lee’s astonishment, he was standing on a tarmac, gazing at an executive jet. Did they have their own version of con-air here, he wondered? It didn’t seem possible that such could be the case, but here he was. Or could it be that Kocerin had figured something out? He didn’t dare hope for that.**

**"Move," he was ordered.**

**"To the plane?" he asked, still not believing.**

**"Of course, idiot!"**

**He shuffled as fast as he could to the waiting plane and then eased up the stairs into something he would have expected for a very well placed CEO. It contained a half dozen plush chairs and on one side, a large desk. In the back was a kind of kitchenette with a small bar. What the hell was going on, he asked himself in total shock. Perhaps he was still dreaming. That was it—he was dreaming. A crazy one, like that one earlier tonight.**

**"Sit down," he was ordered. Lee walked to the chair indicated and sat down. It was the most comfortable thing he had experienced in a very long time. The man buckled him in, not waiting for him to do it for himself. The guard sat down in a seat next to him by the window. The jet began its preflight and then began taxiing down the tarmac. Within minutes it was airborne and Crane saw the lights of the capital city diminish. If this was a dream, he certainly wanted it to continue, but the sporadic sleep of the days before and after the trial, sleep that had been interrupted by cold, anxiety and despair, had taken its toll and he felt himself slipping into a lethargy that quickly changed to sleep. Lee never saw the other guard who joined him from the flight deck. Kroshna sat in the seat next to the desk and buckled himself in.**


	15. 15

Chapter 15

December 24th, 0500 hours, Seoul standard time

Nelson awoke from his slight doze to the insistent buzzing of his personal phone that lay by his side. He had been extremely irritated when told to go to his room and get some sleep an hour or so after midnight without any kind of news. The president said that some things were pending. Pending? What the hell did that mean, Harry wondered? But he wasn’t going to question. He had trusted the president for the past five years; he wasn’t going to stop now. So he went to his room to rest. Sleep? That was a joke. It was only the fact that he was so bone weary that he had even dozed off.

He groped for the phone and put it to his ear. "Nelson."

"Harry, get a hold of your exec and have him meet Crane at the Kimpo Airport," the voice on the other end came. "Private gate 26."

It still felt like a dream. "Mr. President?"

"You awake, Harry? Tell Morton to get to the airport before the newsies do. I suspect that Crane’s not going to be amused to be released into the custody of the press."

"How did you do it, sir?"  


"Later, Harry. I am tired and I want to get someplace where I can get some uninterrupted sleep—namely your boat. Make that call and let’s get the hell out of here."  


"Yes, sir," he said even as the connected was terminated.  
It still seemed like a dream.

December 24th, 0505 Seoul standard time

"Mr. Morton," Sparks called from the radio shack. "Call for you, sir."

Chip straightened up slowly, trying to coddle his sore back muscles a bit. "Who from?" he asked. He was only in the control room at this unholy hour because he hadn’t been able to sleep. Doing the charting work for the next mission was only a diversion, but it wasn’t a good one. He had calculated the last coordinates at least four times.

"The admiral, sir," came the prompt answer. "He sounds like he’s in a hurry, sir."

Morton nodded and headed the short distance to where Sparks was on duty. The lieutenant handed him the headset and sat back. "Yes, sir?"

"Chip, get to the Kimpo Airport on the double. You’re meeting him at gate 26, private landing area."

"Admiral?" Chip began.

"And have the OOD make ready for the president and me to come aboard within the hour. Nelson out."

"But Admiral…." But the call had been terminated abruptly. Sounded like the admiral was tired as well as in a hurry. He and the president were coming back aboard immediately. And he, who, at the Kimpo Airport? Stunned insight brought him fully aware. There was only one ‘he’ that Chip could think of. Lee! But the admiral hadn’t come right out and said it. Was that fatigue or the possibility that he thought someone might be listening? And could he be sure the admiral was talking about Lee? Who else? Still….

Rojas was on duty, due to be relieved in an hour. Well, that wouldn’t happen exactly on time, not with the president coming back on board. "Mr. Rojas!"

"Yes, Mr. Morton?"

"Make ready for the arrival of the President and Admiral Nelson within the hour, Miguel."

The lieutenant’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question. "Aye, sir."

"I’m going into Seoul—to the airport. I should be back in a couple of hours."

"Airport, sir?"

"Admiral’s orders." Morton felt excitement growing, but tried to curb it as best he could. Sleep was totally gone now. Rojas turned and began issuing orders.

"Mr. Morton?" Sparks asked near his elbow.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to the airport for the skipper?"

Chip had always been amazed at Sparks’ powers of perception. He seemed to have a built-in radar. "Sparks, the admiral was in such a hurry or was afraid of a security leak that he didn’t say. I can only assume so. But don’t say anything until I can confirm it. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up only to dash them."

"I understand, sir. I’ll be waiting for word."

Chip nodded. "Put in a call for a cab, please. I’m going to get my jacket and cover and I’ll be right back."

"Aye, sir. It will be waiting by the time you get to the end of the dock. Would you like someone to accompany you?"

This time Chip shook his head. If it was Lee, he would rather do it by himself.

The trip to the airport seemed interminable as even this early there was already traffic. Apparently Christmas Eve, even in a largely non-Christian country was still a factor. However, Chip didn’t know how long the trip was supposed to take, so he had no way to judge. He couldn’t help but wish he could have taken the Flying Sub and shortened the distance that anxiety, narrow roads, traffic and weather seemed to be making longer. The wind was bitingly cold. Thankfully there was no snow, but in his experience, it would probably have been warmer had there been some.

Finally they were there and he was dropped off at the terminal. An extra twenty guaranteed that the man would remain for at least an hour. If it were Lee coming in soon, neither of them would want to stay. That would be even more likely if there was a press presence. As he entered the terminal, Chip saw that it was reasonably quiet and there didn’t seem to be more than typical travelers. He breathed a sigh of relief at that. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with reporters. The news of the trial had come out about the time the summit had begun and some of the men on liberty had mentioned being asked questions, but why Lee’s release would be so quickly pounced on was anyone’s guess. Typical newsman’s nose for a story, he guessed. A quick check at a ticket counter told him where the gates for the private jets were and he strode hurriedly down the concourse.

It was even quieter on this concourse than in the terminal. The numbers above the doors were in Korean and English and Chip quickly found gate twenty-six. The window showed that dawn was near. Already, he could see several small private jets and airplanes, but none were near his gate. Chip began pacing, wishing something would happen soon.

"Sir," a soft, heavily accented voice came from behind him and Chip started.

Turning he found himself facing a diminutive, dark-haired young woman. "Yes?" he asked, tempering his growing anxiety.

"You are waiting for the jet from the People’s Republic?"

"Yes, do you know when it’s supposed to arrive?" he asked.

"It is approaching and will be landing shortly after the sun rises," she replied calmly and she consulted her watch. "Probably fifteen minutes. I believe it was asked that someone meet the passenger on the tarmac. If you are that person, I can show you where you need to wait."

"Please and yes, Admiral Nelson asked me to come."

She bowed and walked toward the gate door, putting a code into an access pad. The door opened and they walked through, the cold hitting like a slap on the face. Ribbons of snow lay on the distant hillsides, accentuating the chill of the air here on the dark concrete.

"Here you will be safe and you will be able to meet your American captain." She gazed up into his eyes and smiled. "I know he will be happy to see one of his countrymen again."

"Yes," he said hoarsely, feeling the anxiety welling up again with the casual confirmation.

"Because you are in an area that could be unsafe, I am obligated to remain with you until the jet lands."

"That’s okay," Chip said casually, even as he scanned the increasingly brighter skies.

December 24th, 0640 hours, Seoul standard time

"Commander Crane," a soft voice intruded into his restful sleep.

There were no dreams, unless the jet was a dream. Lee opened his eyes and saw the comfortable surrounding, then he saw Kroshna. His puzzlement grew. "You were at the President’s residence," he murmured in English and at Kroshna’s puzzled look reverted to the language of the Republic.

"Yes, and I am now on the President’s private jet. The auxiliary one," Kroshna said with a smile.

"Why?" Lee asked, still feeling a bit of stupor from a deep sleep he hadn’t enjoyed for over three weeks.

Kroshna smiled even more broadly. "Do you not know a release when you see it?"

"Release?" Then it fully dawned on him. "I’m being released? I’m free?" he asked, then looked at the jingling chains that held his hands and feet bound, frowning. "But how?"

"President Kocerin in his gratitude to you and his feeling of good-will, pardoned you. He wished me to give you a greeting from him and his daughter." He paused dramatically. "Merry Christmas." He motioned the other guard out of the seat next to Crane and then he sat down. "I will take off the restraints when we arrive in Seoul," he said, noting Lee’s appraisal of the hated chains. "There is supposed to be someone from your submarine awaiting your arrival."

"How soon?" Lee asked, his head swimming. It was almost too much to take in. A miracle had happened. It was the only explanation.

"We are approximately thirty minutes out. I can only offer you basic amenities to clean up for your meeting with your crew mates."

"That’s fine, thank you," Crane said eagerly.

Kroshna motioned to the guard who handed him a key. The bodyguard took off the ankle chains and then showed Lee a head that was not much bigger than his in his cabin on Seaview but luxurious compared to his previous two plus weeks accommodation. There was a razor and shaving cream and Lee took care of the almost one week’s growth of beard. There was nothing he could do about the length of his hair, which was long enough to hide the tops of his ears. A new toothbrush was put to quick use and he finished off by washing his face as best he could with his cuffs on.

The man who gazed back at him in the mirror was a bit thinner than when he had left for The People’s Republic, a bit older, a bit more melancholy. Then he recalled Kroshna’s words and grinned. The age and melancholy melted away. He was free—well, almost free. But he was going home. The Gray Lady—home. Suddenly he laughed and the man in the mirror laughed with him. Euphoric wonder bubbled inside and he had to work hard to contain it. Never had he had a present like this—even when he was a child. It was almost more than he could bear. He had hoped, but never dreamed it would really happen.

Taking control of his emotions, Lee Crane finished cleaning up and left the head. Kroshna motioned him back in the seat, neglecting to reattach the manacles to his ankles. The sun had just risen and spots of residual snow glistened brightly on the hills outside the city. The lights of the airport came into view and Lee watched eagerly, like any child would, leaning forward in front of the bodyguard.

He had never flown into Seoul, but it could have been Timbuktu for all he cared. The pilot circled the airport and Lee saw the long runways, the terminal and neighboring roads and buildings. The jet approached its designated runway and Lee saw the ground rush upward toward them. Then the bump, whine and screech of brakes and the little jet coasted toward the terminal. Again, Crane had to contain his excitement.

Finally the jet came to a stop at the end of a small concourse and Kroshna undid his seatbelt and stood up. Lee did the same. They moved toward the outer door where the other guard undid the latch and pulled the door open. Bright light made him blink, but still Lee sucked in the cold air of freedom, reveling in it.

"I will not see you again, most likely," Kroshna said and Lee reluctantly pulled his eyes from the sight outside of the doorway. "But I wish to thank you for saving the little one and her grandfather. The president’s family is very precious to me. Miss Neera said she believed her father would indeed find a way to let you go home and she was right. Please realize that this is going to be difficult for President Kocerin, but he wanted to do this as well."

"Thank you," Lee said huskily, his realization of what the Republic president had done hitting him as well. "Please give all of them my thanks and regards."

"As I said, Miss Neera believed that you would be able to go home and she wanted you to have something to remember her." Kroshna handed him a tin foil and string ornament. In shock, Lee realized that it was the ornament he had hidden the microfilm in. Had she known? Had they known? Coincidence, but now it gave him conflicting emotions. Still he thanked Kroshna and put the ornament into his pocket.

"It is time, Captain Crane," Kroshna said. He had the key and placed it into the right cuff, then the left. He caught the chain as it fell from Lee’s wrists.  
"Good luck, Captain. I will accompany you to the bottom of the steps and then you should see the crewman you are meeting."

Slowly, then more quickly, Lee descended the steps, then he looked up and saw Chip coming from the shadows. Chip’s grin had to match his own. Soon Chip’s arms had embraced him in a bear hug that threatened the breath in his lungs.

"Oh, thank God," Chip murmured as Lee reciprocated the embrace. For several heartbeats the two men remained locked in their friendship, their joy and rejoicing.  
Feeling his eyes smart in unchecked emotion, Lee blinked and worked to regain control. Finally, he pulled away slightly. "I figured it would be you," he said, his voice cracking a bit.

"The admiral didn’t say much, was either too anxious, or too much in a hurry to do more than tell me to come to the airport."

"Where is he?" Lee asked.

"Back on the boat by now, I suspect. With the president," Chip replied. "By the way, the admiral hinted that the press might be on to this, so let’s get the hell out of Dodge."

With little problem, the two men made their way down the concourse and to the cab. Lee had received several looks at his disheveled appearance, but he couldn’t worry about it. The trip to the boat would have been too long if it had been only five minutes, but it was longer. 

Chip began plying him with questions, but Lee was suddenly reticent to speak of what had happened in The People’s Republic. Chip seemed to sense that and only spoke of what the men had planned for their Christmas celebrations. Lee laughed at the rendition of Sharkey’s and Riley’s antics and felt warm in his impending family reunion. 

Family…. What more could a man want—only his family and that was what the men were. Aloud he said, “Speaking of family, how does Nikki‡ feel about your first Christmas apart?” Lee sighed. “Guess this snafu messed up a lot of Christmases.” 

“Nikki was worried about you and totally understood that we all wanted to be here. . . in case….”

“In case some miracle happened.”

“It did, Lee, it did.” 

Both men were silent for several minutes. “Don’t forget to make your phone calls when we’re back on the boat,” Morton said. “Meeka has been sick with worry.”

Lee nodded, too overcome with reality to trust himself to speak.

They arrived at the dock where the Seaview was resting quietly. Several crewmen were on guard and snapped to attention when the cab pulled up. When he stepped out with Chip, their jaws dropped. "Skipper!" they chorused, their grins wreathing their faces, ‘attention’ forgotten.

Lee couldn’t help it, he grinned back. "It’s good to be back," he responded, clapping them each on the shoulder.

When he actually stepped onto the boat, he was formally piped aboard. Despite his appearance, the men awaited him as though he was in dress blues at an official function. The admiral embraced him and Lee again had a hard time containing his emotions.

Later, after he had showered, changed into his uniform and been to a Christmas service in the mess hall, he thought about what had happened. It was still hard to believe he was on the boat. He had walked through every part of Seaview, opened every door, even visited in the crew’s quarters with the men who had been off watch. As the sub headed out into the Pacific Ocean, he had stood for over an hour on the ‘front porch’ watching as they slipped through the ocean. It had mesmerized him, calmed him and almost seduced him. During that time, he had heard the comforting noises of the conn, but no one had done more than bring him a fresh cup of coffee.

Now, late at night, still pumped in his freedom, he was in the mess with another fresh cup of coffee. Lee pulled out the ornament, which he had placed in his uniform pocket when he had changed, and looked at it, straightening the bent wings of the tin foil angel. Inside was the information for which he had been sent to The People’s Republic. He had paid a great price for this triviality, but not as high as he could have paid. Now came the decision—to turn it over or not. Somehow, it wasn’t a real decision to him anymore. Somehow, if he did turn it over to ONI it would cheapen the gift he had been given. It would also cheapen the sacrifice he knew President Kocerin had made in his behalf.

The president told him of the deal that had been made and Lee knew he was done with ONI. Not that he was entirely sorry. He only regretted the fact that he had never caught up with Hartsfield.* As far as the microfilm was concerned, he knew what was in it. He had seen the shipyard where the sub was being built. If they couldn’t believe his word, then that was too bad. Somehow Lee suspected the intelligence community knew pretty much everything, too. He pulled the tinfoil apart and was surprised to see that there was no microchip. Why that sly old dog, Lee thought. Kocerin had put two and two together and figured it out. Had figured it out and not used it against him. Or Kroshna had. Either way, he was grateful.

Lee finished fixing the little ornament and approached the tree.

"What have you got there, Lee?" Admiral Nelson asked, watching him.

"An ornament that Neera and I made up in the cabin. I’m going to put it on the tree. It seems right." He fixed the ornament and hung it on the tree. Then he watched it sparkle. "Merry Christmas, Neera," he said softly, glancing at the clock on the wall. Midnight. "Merry Christmas, Nirhan Kocerin. Merry Christmas, Nicoli and Kroshna." Who would have thought, he wondered? Who would have dreamed there would be such wonders in a country that had been feared and hated for so long?

"Amen," came a familiar voice behind him. The president.

"Amen," Lee echoed. "Merry Christmas, Mr. President."

‡Nikki is Chip’s wife as described in The Journal and Bear River Rendevouz

*Hartsfield was introduced in Loloa Fononga (The Long Journey)


	16. Chapter 16

**Epilogue**

**December 25th, 0300 hours, North Pacific**

**Four men sat in the quiet of the closed off observation nose, silently nursing their respective eggnog’s. Each drink had been spiked to the degree that the owner had desired. The captain, who was planning to go on watch in an hour, even though not on the roster, had opted for no addition to his eggnog. In the case of the President of the United States who didn’t have to do more than watch the passage of Nelson’s marvel through the sea, the addition had been more liberal.**

**It had been a very difficult several weeks for all involved and for pretty much the same reason—Lee Crane.**

**As for Crane, he sat contemplatively, gazing at the dark, mysterious ocean laid before them, his drink ignored in his hand, his long legs propped up on the desk before him. "Still hard to believe I’ve only been on board for just a little more than eighteen hours," he murmured.**

**"Damned good to have you where you belong," the president assured him.**

**"Thank you, sir," Crane said yet again. He felt he couldn’t say it enough.**

**"It’s worth whatever it cost to get you back, although I have to admit, the cost to me wasn’t much. When I was briefed about this situation, I wasn’t happy that you were moonlighting for ONI. Too many blasted irons in the fire, son. Stick to what you know best, Lee!" He smiled at Crane’s discomfiture and then turned to Nelson. "A little more of that delicious eggnog, Harry, and without the added kick. Too early in the morning. You’ll ruin my reputation."**

**Nelson smiled and then sobered almost immediately. "Yes, sir," he said, pouring a healthy amount of the thick drink into the president’s mug. "For the record I wasn’t happy about Lee’s involvement with ONI either," Nelson replied, gazing meaningfully at Lee. "And I’m certainly grateful for you giving me back a full time captain."**

**There was a half second of companionable silence and then Chip sat up straight. "Could you three back up there? Am I missing something—uh, sir?" he said, glancing at the president. Then he turned his attention to Lee, glaring at him for a moment. "What’s this about ONI? What the hell are they planning on now? Didn’t that experience in The People’s Republic…."**

**"Hold on, Chip," Lee said, suddenly realizing that Chip hadn’t been briefed. He hadn’t been briefed on everything until mid-afternoon yesterday, and he and Chip’s paths hadn’t crossed much since then. He had just assumed that the admiral had told him. "Sorry, you didn’t get the full terms of the pardon?"**

**"No, and I wasn’t listening to the scuttlebutt, either," Chip said with another sip from his eggnog. "And there was plenty flying around."**

**The president answered. "I had to promise that Captain Crane would never again enter the People’s Republic for espionage reasons. In order to do that, I told Kocerin that I would make sure the captain was removed from the rolls of any agency that had been using him for spying purposes."**

**Although his friend tried hard to hide it, Lee saw a variety of emotions playing across Chip’s face. There was silence for the space of several heartbeats while Chip gazed at him. Lee felt communication from those intense blue eyes—a communication that reverently said, ‘thank God.’ Lee knew how Chip felt about his espionage involvement, but hadn’t really understood the depth of those feelings until that instant of non-verbal communication.**

**Suddenly Chip glanced away and flashed a monster grin. "Hallelujah! Thank you, Mr. President. I don’t think I’ll know what to do with Captain Crane here full time, but I sure will try." Chip got up and poured himself some more eggnog. "Anyone like a refill?"**

**Lee looked at him warily, shaking his head and sensing something more from his friend.**

**Chip raised his glass. "Here’s to ONI, which might possibly survive without Captain Lee Crane." He took a long drink.**

**The president and Nelson laughed jovially as Lee pierced Chip with a look that boded ill for the immediate future.**

**"Kocerin sort of addressed that during our late night chats," the president said contemplatively.**

**"Oh?" Nelson asked. The others silently watched, curiosity on their faces.**

**"Yes," the president began innocently. "He said you should keep a tighter rein on your boy there, Harry."**

**Nelson’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. Crane felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment, but wasn’t surprised that Kocerin would say something like that. Chip began laughing heartily. The rest soon joined him.**

**"He really said that?" Nelson asked.**

**"In so many words, yes."**

**Then Crane pondered the events of the past few days. Still the only word he could come up with was miraculous. "I wonder how President Kocerin has fared. That was quite a risk he took."**

**"We can find out," said Nelson, picking up a mike. "The new news channel dotes on stuff like this and we can get the feed off satellite." He made the call to have the broadcast sent to the front porch and then he turned on the small monitor sitting on the desk. Sure enough, that was what they were talking about. Lee saw a picture of he and Chip at the airport and realized, in embarrassment, that there had been reporters in attendance. At least one, anyway. He fumed, but was glad that the only demonstration of their emotions was that big bear hug. Crane’s other thought was that they could have at least asked, but then they began talking about Kocerin and he focused on events in the People’s Republic. To his embarrassment, Kocerin had divulged all of what had happened during that blizzard. The president next cited the centuries old code of honor among his ancestors that made it impossible to allow Lee’s sentence to stand. There were some outcries among his detractors and some anti-Kocerin sentiment among the public, but all in all, Crane felt that Kocerin had handled it well. As they continued to watch, he saw that the story was certainly playing well in the states. Suddenly, the People’s Republic was more than some unholy evil or a patriotic whipping boy.**

**"Ah, Lee, the ladies are going to be on your doorstep," Chip said with a laugh. "They showed your best side with that recent Navy photo. Would you like me to hire you a bodyguard?"**

**"Yeah, from smart-mouthed executive officers," Lee fumed. He took a sip from his cup to try to salvage his decorum. It didn’t help that the admiral was grinning right along with Chip.**

**The president ignored the banter, though. "Well, I told Kocerin that the press could be a very good ally," he mused. "I just pray that my other promise ends up being more than just hot air. That’s the disadvantage of being a lame duck president."**

**"What other promise, sir?" Chip asked, setting aside his joking.**

**"To try to convince Congress to ease up the trade sanctions against the People’s Republic," the president replied. "I told Kocerin there were no guarantees, but I would do my best." He turned to Lee. "Perhaps you can help me in that convincing, Lee, if the admiral and your exec are willing to let you play politics away from the boat a little bit."**

**"I can spare him," Nelson said. "At least I’ll know where he is and that the only danger would be a few wind-bag Congressmen."**

**Crane resisted the admiral’s joke. "Of course, Mr. President. I owe both you and President Kocerin a great deal."**

**"Lee, there is really only one person who made this event happen the way it did," the president said softly, his gaze penetrating. "You. By doing what you did during that storm, you set the stage."**

**"But, sir, if you hadn’t…."**

**"If, maybe, perhaps, could have been, might have been, whatever," the president mused aloud. "There are many factors in this old world that lead up to the conclusions we pick apart later. Maybe it’s something more than someone’s personal integrity or someone else’s sense of honor."**

**Lee felt the wash of embarrassment, but it left quickly as other sentiments floated through his consciousness. It was silent on the Front Porch for several minutes. Finally he was left with his first impression. "Maybe it was just something miraculous, something we aren’t meant to understand," Lee said, his voice low with barely contained emotion.**

**"Maybe it’s the season," Chip murmured, gazing at the tree blinking in the corner. The soft lights reflected off the herculite windows making it appear almost surreal.**

**"Maybe it’s all of the above," Nelson added. And he began to recite:**

**"Like a bairn to its mither,**

**A wee birdie to its nest,**

**I fain would be gangin’ noo**

**Unto my Faether’s breast;**

**For He gathers in His arms**

**Helpless, worthless lambs like me,**

**An’ carries them to Himsel’**

**To his ain countree." ***

**Only the soft motion of _Seaview_ could be felt, the soft sigh of agreement could be heard. The men watched the water of the dark ocean slide along the bow, and felt the wonder of Christmas sluice around and through them. The feeling was unbroken for several minutes.**

**Then a voice came over the intercom, "Will the captain please report to the wardroom?"**

**"Welcome home, Lee," Nelson added with a contented smile.**

***Kate Douglas Wiggin, ** _**The Birds’ Christmas Carol.**_


End file.
